


Forever and a Day (Always)

by BossGoose, Charmkeeper



Series: Miles to Go Before I Sleep [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath of trauma, BrOT4, Canon Typical Violence, Fluff, Hanahaki AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Prophecy AU, Promnis - Freeform, Romantic Comedy, Treachery, With a Serious Edge, eventual OT3, happy endings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-24 17:50:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 118,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20710097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BossGoose/pseuds/BossGoose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charmkeeper/pseuds/Charmkeeper
Summary: Life doesn't end after high school or after true love's kiss. It goes on. It fluxes and changes. Sometimes those changes bring sadness, but sometimes they bring happiness greater than you ever imagined.





	1. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! <3
> 
> To returning readers! Welcome! We're so happy you're here! <333  
To new readers! Welcome! We're also thrilled you're here! However, while you certainly can read this story, it might make more sense if you go back and read part one. <333
> 
> Please enjoy our new story! o u o

Friday was still game night.

Prompto wasn't sure how he did it, but Noctis practically demanded that any time after five on Fridays was off limits. Prompto suspected that was a couple hours earlier than most officials went home, but it didn't matter. At five o'clock on Friday he was expected to be at Noct's apartment ready to play some games, eat food, and have fun. It wasn't the only time set aside for them to do things or hang out, but it the only consistent time. No matter how Noctis might whine about how boring meetings were or gripe about old politicians, Noctis had stepped into his role has prince the moment he'd graduated nearly half a year ago now, and Prompto thought he did a pretty good job. If Friday evenings were the line in the sand that he told people to not to cross with him, his advisor, and his shield, well, Prompto couldn't blame him for just one evening. Everyone needed time.

Prompto had miraculously set up his own schedule so that he was definitely available every evening and weekends, so if one of them called for him he could be there almost no questions asked. Every Friday he was there before they were. The guards at the doors didn't even bother to stop him anymore. It was practically as though he lived there himself.

The setup itself hadn't much changed, food, games, and sometimes a movie. The biggest difference was the weekly talk (argument?) where Noctis tried to get Ignis to order in rather than cook. That, Prompto suspected, was far less about not wanting to eat what he made, hidden veggies and all, and more about getting Ignis to sit on the couch with them sooner. Noctis had taken a very active role lately in what he called "reconnecting" with Ignis. Prompto couldn't complain either way. On one hand he loved Ignis' cooking. On the other hand he loved cuddling his boyfriend. He stayed out of their little talks. It was win-win for him.

This Friday was a little different, not so much in setup and the night itself, but in the plans they had for the next day. It was October, and though Daemon's Night was technically only the very last night of October, it had grown into such a large thing over the years that it was practically a month-long celebration. Daemon's could be seen everywhere, as well as pumpkins, bats, spiders, and all the little things people had deemed spooky and scary over the millennia. It was only eleven days until the holiday itself, when children dressed up in costume and went around begging candy off strangers.

In between now and then was Prompto's birthday. He hadn't heard anything from Noctis, Gladio, or Ignis, and he grew more and more suspicious about what as happening in their brains by the day, but that was still a few days away. Tonight was game night, and then tomorrow, once Noctis deemed himself rested enough to bother getting up, they were going off to talk a walk through a Horror House. Well. They as in Noctis, Gladio and him. Ignis still said absolutely not at every turn. Even without Ignis going, there was a sense of anticipation clinging to everything about the evening, so Prompto didn't really find it surprising when Gladio pushed himself up from the couch an hour earlier than he normally might and said he was hitting the hay.

Noctis booed him, but Ignis got up from his seat and walked him to the door. Prompto could hear them softly chatting, but he couldn't make out precisely what was being said. They were probably discussing the details of tomorrow. Like whether Gladio was going to be Noctis' only guard at the Horror House. Ugh. Prompto didn't want to think about it.

A couple minutes later Ignis returned, only to say, "I think I'm going to head on out myself."

"Boo, Specs, boo!"

Ignis ignored his jab. "When you're done here," Ignis now had Prompto's almost full attention, because he knew he was talking to him. "Come on up to bed. All right?"

"Okay."

"No matter the time, do you hear me?"

"Yep. Three a.m. Got it."

Ignis chuckled, and boy did Prompto wish that he could pause the game right now to look at his face. He supposed he would have to settle for the feel of lips against his temple. "I'll see you in a couple hours."

It wasn't until the door had closed behind Ignis that Noctis spoke again. "So."

"So?"

"Was that the 'I'm really talking about sleep' come to bed? Or the 'I want your clothes off in the worst way' come to bed?"

Prompto dared to look away from the screen long enough to glare in Noctis' direction. "I really should have never told you he has two different ways of saying it." Not that he'd even actually said what the two different inflections meant! Noctis had just (correctly) guessed on his own.

Noctis didn't respond to that, but he was grinning, and that was bad enough. "Well?"

Prompto huffed. "It was the 'I don't want you walking halfway across the city at midnight' come to bed."

"So just sleep."

"Yes."

About a minute passed in silence. "Are you lying to spare my brain that mental image?"

"No." He really wasn't, not that he would tell him if he were.

Two hours later, the game was turned off and they went their separate ways. Noctis to his bedtime routine and Prompto up the stairs to Ignis' apartment. The door was unlocked, and after he'd stepped inside and toed his shoes off he locked it behind him. He didn't find Ignis in bed (he hadn't really expected to.) Instead he found Ignis at his kitchen table, papers spread out, laptop open, tablet off to one side. Prompto was sure Ignis knew someone else was in his apartment, but he was also sure Ignis knew it was him, and that didn't register enough on his radar for him to even look up from his work.

"Iggy," he sighed. "It's almost midnight."

That seemed to get through the fog of focus, and Ignis looked up to the clock on the stove. "So it is." He looked back down again almost immediately. "Go on and get ready for bed, Darling. I'll be there in a minute."

If there was anything that Prompto had learned since staying the night had become acceptable practice for them it was that when work was out on the table a "minute" meant an hour. After an hour you'd bug him again and it'd become a "moment" which was about fifteen more minutes. "Nope. Not tonight." He grabbed the back of Ignis' chair and, with a little resistance, dragged it out.

"Prompto, what are you--"

Ignis didn't get to complete that question because before he got it all out, Prompto had him straddled (albeit a little awkwardly, but it worked,), hands cupping his face, and was kissing him. The resistance he got was token at best before he was being kissed fervently in return, hands settled down on his waist and thumbs rubbed circles into his hipbones. That was really nice, he liked the motion, and of course he liked the kissing, but it couldn't go on too long before it became the thing that he'd assured Noctis this wasn't.

He pulled back. "Come to bed, Iggy." The work could wait. Most people didn't even go into the office on Saturday or Sunday. The work could wait. "Please?"

"Yes, all right," Ignis said a little breathlessly, and Prompto gave him another long kiss for it. "Let me put this away," he said when they parted again. That was agreeable. After all, Ignis really shouldn't even have the paperwork around where his pleb boyfriend could see it, not that Prompto was likely to read or understand any of it even if it he did. It was best if it was put away properly for the night. That didn't stop Prompto from settling in against the counter to watch and make sure he didn't get back into working on it again.

Once it was safely put away they went to bed. As utilitarian as his apartment might be in other spots, Ignis had a luxurious bed. It was easily large enough for the two of them. It was actually larger than Noctis' bed, and with Noctis being the king of naps you'd think he'd have the best bed. No. Ignis definitely had him beat. The bed had apparently been a purchase to combat insomnia, something Ignis had an on and off battle with. It didn't really help, according to Ignis, but it was comfortable and pleasing so he'd kept it anyway.

In Ignis' bed, Prompto fell asleep almost instantly.

The clock read 3:04 in bright red the next time he opened his eyes. He had to push himself up a little to see it, and he'd clearly slid down in his time asleep. He and Ignis had also intertwined during that time, and while it had apparently been comfortable before it was anything but now. He tried, he really did, to unwind his legs from Ignis' own without waking him, but before he managed it Ignis' eyes creaked open. Prompto internally groaned. "Turn over," Ignis mumbled, eyes closing again. For a moment his own half asleep brain thought Ignis was talking about the pastry. Turnovers. Why was Ignis talking about turnovers? While his brain chased that thought, Ignis repeated himself. "Turn over." This time it was accompanied by a light tap to his shoulder, and Prompto felt like an idiot. He turned over and slid himself back down under the covers.

There was a slight wooshing of sheets sliding over one another as Ignis himself straightened them out. Then arms slid around his waist and he was pulled back against Ignis' front. He could feel Ignis press his face against his shoulder. It was warm. "Better?" The groggy nature of the words gave away that Ignis was already mostly asleep again. Prompto smiled.

"Great."

"Good." The word was more a breath than anything else, and then Ignis was gone again. Prompto wasn't far after him.

The next time Prompto was aware of being awake the clock read exactly 8:00. Ignis wasn't in bed. It wasn't surprising, Ignis was up no later than seven even on days off, which Ignis never really considered days off. He'd let Prompto sleep in though, which was nice. Prompto himself was normally up way before now for work, or really more like he was up for his run and then work, so on his days off, while he did usually still want to go on a run, sleeping in was nice.

He rolled over onto his back and stretched his arms up in the air, feeling his whole body shudder with the motion. That was when he noticed it. His wristband had been pushed up in his sleep, exposing the bar-code on his wrist. Panic quickly overwhelmed him as he hastily pushed it back down to conceal the mysterious tattoo he'd had for literally as long as he could remember. Suddenly everything seemed a little bit more terrible. Had Ignis seen it? Or worse did he maybe know what it meant? Was it too awful for words? Was that why Ignis wasn't still in bed? Logic told him no. Anxiety told his logic to take a long walk off a short pier.

There was really only one way to find out. It took a lot more oomph than Prompto cared to admit to push himself up out of bed after that. He found Ignis in the kitchen, hair still damp from a shower, but otherwise dressed and ready for his day. It was a little disappointing. Ignis looked great all done up, of course he did, but there was always something to be said about seeing Ignis dressed _down_. Out of his armor, so to speak. Hair not yet finished was going to have to be good enough. If he hadn't had a ball of anxiety turning around in his gut, he would have wanted to run his fingers through it.

"Morning, Iggy."

Ignis looked up from whatever he was doing and smiled. The ball lessened a little. Maybe he hadn't seen it. "Good morning, Prompto. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept great. You?"

"Much the same. I woke up this morning feeling quite rested for once."

"For once. You make it sound like there was a reason."

"There was." He didn't elaborate, but the implication was there, and Prompto didn't know how to handle it so he said nothing. "I'm making a frittata," Ignis said at length.

"Sounds great." Great. It was the word of the day.

"Did you want to go for your run? I can stall it until you get back."

"Nah," Prompto pulled out a chair from the table. "I'm gonna be lazy today, I think."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. It's not every morning that I can spend it all with my boyfriend."

Perhaps he imagined it, but Prompto like to think he saw something in Ignis' shoulders melt, just a little. "That's very true. I'd like to spend my morning with my boyfriend as well."

They did. They spent the next couple of hours at Ignis' table, talking and eating. Ignis told him what ridiculousness he could about life at the Citadel, which was always very redacted in its own way, yet still fascinating. It often sounded like high school dynamics, which Prompto found ridiculous. You never escaped high school, even at the highest rungs of the ladder.

In turn, Prompto told Ignis about his week at the restaurant. There were always stories there, even when they didn't happen to him. It was a Galahdian place, after all. You got a lot of people who came in specifically to be racist. Ma didn't put up with that. Not with her people. The combination of that mixed with just normal restaurant drama made for endless tales. Ignis listened to him indulgently, long after Prompto was sure he'd waxed to the side of boring. Eventually though, Ignis glanced over at the clock and sat his coffee mug down. "It's nearly ten. You should probably get ready for His Highness to actually awaken."

Prompto sighed. "Yeah. I should get a shower in before I go." The last thing he wanted was for Noctis to actually be dressed and ready to go before he was out of his bed clothes. That would really be humiliating. "You could come too."

Ignis paused. "Prompto, that's not as fun as you seem to think it is."

Prompto's brain stalled for a moment. Not as fun.... Oh. Ohhhh. Prompto blushed a little, just a little. "I mean. I think it'd be a lot of fun." Sex in the shower, that was. He was pretty sure that's what Ignis had been talking about. "But that was not what I was talking about."

It was Ignis' turn to blush. "No?"

"No. I was talking about the Horror House. You could come with us. Still. We won't tell you no."

"Ah, that." That was a no before he even heard the word, Prompto knew. "No. I'll remain here, thank you. I'll be here when you return to hear all about it."

"Your loss."

"I'm sure I'll live with the shame. Now, off to the shower with you."

"Are you sure you don't want to head back to bed first? Since you seem to have that on your mind?" His tone might have been teasing, but the offer was serious. It always was for Prompto. He had yet to hit the ceiling of "sated" in that regard. Maybe it was because they were still in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. Maybe that was just how he was. He wasn't sure yet.

Beautiful hazel eyes gave him a once over, and for a moment Prompto thought he might actually say yes. "Tempting as it might be, we don't have time for that."

"Come on," Prompto half-whined at him. "I bet I could suck you off without cutting my time too short."

The slight, blush returned to Ignis' face, and for Prompto, that was always a win. "Rain check?"

Prompto pouted, but he knew he wasn't going to win at this point. "Fine. Rain check."

"Perhaps to be cashed in later this evening? If you're not too tired."

"I'll hold you to that."

"Feel free. Now."

"Shower. I know," Prompto grumbled and pushed himself up from his chair. "I'm going."

"I'll bring in some clothes for you to wear."

"Okay. Thanks."

It didn't take him long to climb into Ignis' shower after that, and by the time he heard the door click open and saw the blurry form of Ignis placing a pile of clothes by the sink he was sure Ignis could smell how it was filled with the scent of steam and Ignis' soap. Though he knew that over the last few months he'd acquired a small gathering of clothing here and of course Ignis had a toothbrush set aside for him, he didn't have separate toiletries here. When he showered here it was with Ignis' soap. It was a bar of soap, and no matter how many times Prompto tried to figure out what it smelled like the only thing he recognized was rosemary. It smelled good though. He didn't dislike it. And he didn't dislike the scent being distinctly telling of the fact that he'd been in Ignis' shower.

Even when a room was warm, getting out of a shower was always cold, and Prompto worked quickly to try and get himself dry before he started to shiver and shake. It wasn't until his hair was deemed 'damp' rather than 'wet' that he actually went to look at the clothes Ignis had picked out. He pulled on the pieces as he went. Yeah, he remembered these socks (he'd actually just thought he'd lost them) and he remembered these jeans. He remembered most of it, until...the top. It wasn't his.

It was nice, a shade of green just this side of olive, sleeves and turtleneck collar, and almost absurdly soft to his fingers. He didn't own anything this nice. He knew it wasn't his, and when he pulled it up over his head it was too big. It wasn't so big that he swam in it, but definitely too big to be something he'd bought on his own. He pulled the loose collar up to his nose and...yep. This was Ignis'. It smelled enough like him for a warmth to pool in his stomach and his heart to speed up in his chest.

"This isn't mine," he commented all the same once he'd emerged from the bathroom. Ignis was back at the kitchen table, paperwork, laptop, and tablet back out and spread over its surface. "Don't you have a desk?" He tacked on. Prompto was almost sure he did, somewhere in the spare room that had been decorated like a small office.

"The table has more area to organize out on," Ignis mumbled between fingers pressed to his lips, and then he seemed to break his focus and sat up straight. "Let me see." Prompto came around to his side, and his insides wiggled to see how fond Ignis looked at the sight of him. "I like it," he whispered, reaching out and running his fingers up and down Prompto's sleeve. "It makes your eyes pop. I thought it might."

"It's not mine, Iggy."

"I know, but all that you have here is sleeveless. It's chilly outside. You needed the sleeves."

"I'd be fine."

"Perhaps, but I'll feel better this way. Besides," a slow smirk crawled its way up Ignis' lips. "I like you in my things."

Prompto opened his mouth to give at least one more bit of token resistance when there was a knock at the door. "Wow, he really hustled this morning, huh?"

"So it would seem." Ignis pushed himself up from the table, and Prompto stayed behind while he answered it. It wasn't Noctis that followed behind Ignis when he returned but Gladio instead. While Ignis came back around to the table, Gladio paused in the archway. Prompto could feel his eyes looking him over. Oh yeah. Gladio totally knew this was not his shirt. Maybe he'd even seen Ignis wear it before.

"Noct's ready to go."

"Cool. I just gotta get my shoes on." His hair wasn't done, and that was...ugh, but the truth was that he was probably totally going to ruin it at the Horror House anyway. There was all sorts of things that might mess up a hairstyle.

"Have a good time," Ignis leaned down, and Prompto turned his head in time to catch his lips before they connected with his cheek instead. With Gladio there Ignis kept it short and chaste, but it filled his chest with as much warmth as mulled cider anyway. "I'll see you all when you return."

"Okay." Prompto frowned. Was it just him, or did Gladio sound sad? "Don't work too hard." Maybe not. That sounded normal. "Come on, Prompto. Shoes on. Can't keep Princess waiting."

"You know he hates being called that, right?"

Gladio chortled. "Yeah. I know."

Gladio drove. Prompto could honestly probably count the number of times he'd gone somewhere with Noctis in a car with someone other than Ignis at the wheel on one hand. Of those times it had been Gladio all but once. Noctis had once said that Gladio was a good driver, but he didn't really like to drive. Prompto supposed he should be grateful that Gladio was willing to today. The gods knew Prompto would never be trusted with a license, and Noctis - Well. He'd heard stories.

The Horror House they pulled up in front of had been built in the parking lot of an old mall. You could tell it was old and nearly abandoned by the amount of green that grew out of the cracks in it asphalt. It was fairly busy right now though, with plenty of cars parked off to one side and even from within the car Prompto could hear the eerie music and shrieking from within the Horror House.

"We had this place vetted, right?" It was a little late to be asking, Prompto thought, but apparently now was when it had occurred to Noctis, even as he pulled down the brim of his cap a bit and got out of the car.

"Yeah, couple days ago." At least someone had apparently thought of it. Probably Ignis. It was usually Ignis. "And they were notified to ramp up security because someone important would be visiting."

"Someone important," Prompto scoffed, reaching up and pulling Noctis' hat all the way down over his eyes. "I don't see anyone like that here." Once he got his hat back up, Noctis gave chase, and soon they were shoving and pulling, and half play fighting. (He knew it was play because Noctis could definitely kick his ass given half a chance.) When Prompto glanced back, he saw that Gladio was lingering behind them, a serious expression on his face, eyes cast somewhat downward. Again with the sort of sad expression.

"You okay, big guy?"

Eyes flicked up to meet his own. A stray thought entered his brain. He didn't know why people were so down on brown eyes. Not when they made every expression look so warm. He pushed the thought aside as Gladio spoke. "Yeah. Fine. Just thinking."

"Don't think too hard," Noctis teased, "You might hurt yourself."

"Very funny, Noct."

There was a fee to get in the Horror House, of course. Prompto had the yen all counted out in his wallet. That didn't matter, because Noctis, like the little shit he was, handed over the cash for all of them. _This._ This was why he normally went first. Exactly so Noctis wouldn't do this shit. "Don't give me that look, it's your birthday week! You don't get to pay for anything!"

"Birthdays are for a day. It's not called a birthweek!"

"Well! It should be!" Noctis hooked his arm around Prompto's elbow and tugged. "Come on! Let's go get the shit scared out of us."

It didn't take long. Horror Houses made their money scaring people, so they naturally took their business very seriously. The first couple of scares were incredibly mild, probably both to ease you into it and to scare off the people who couldn't really handle the rest of it. Prompto was pretty sure by the third or fourth jump scare into it that the workers were going to be laughing amongst themselves later, saying that he really should have turned back at the clown holding the red balloons. The deeper you went, the more daemon-y it got, but it wasn't until the mindflayer with independently moving animatronic tentacles that Prompto actually shrieked and buried his face into the nearest human looking arm. It happened to be Gladio's.

"Shut up!" He growled into said arm when he both heard and felt Gladio chuckling.

"If you're so scared of these things, why did you even want to come?" Fingers dug into his scalp and ruffled his hair. Prompto was now secretly glad he hadn't had time to style his hair. Gladio would have totally just ruined it, let alone the rest of the Horror House.

"Because it's fun sometimes! To be scared of things in a safe environment!"

"Uh huh."

"It is!" He insisted, pulling his face away from his arm to glare up at his face. Why did he have to be so tall?! It made it harder to glare. "You just don't understand because you're not scared of anything!"

"Well, that's not true."

"Sure it isn't." He pulled away from Gladio's side completely and began to make to catch up with Noctis, who was already getting way ahead of them. "Sure."

They made quite a trio, really. They had him, who shied away, jumped, and cried out at almost everything. They had Gladio, who said and reacted to nothing (damn training.) Lastly, as a complete opposite to Prompto, they had Noctis, who laughed at everything, the bastard. He just laughed. He wasn't sure which of them would be the most noteworthy to the workers later.

In between all the bigger scares, there were a lot of imps and goblins. They didn't seem to have designated spots within the house. They could and _would_ pop out at you anytime. Of course, their jump scares got Prompto every single time, but it was surprising when, maybe three-quarters of their way through the house (Prompto was gauging by how much more of this his body could take) Gladio started to tell off the imp scarers. "What is up with you?" Prompto asked as quietly as he could (which honestly wasn't all that quietly with all the eerie music and background noise) after Gladio actually told the latest imp to fuck off.

"It's the same one, Prom," Gladio seethed through gritted teeth. "It's been the same damn imp the last five times." Gladio grasped his shoulder and pushed him on ahead of him. Protectively, Prompto realized a moment later. There was something about that imp that put Gladio in full on bodyguard mode.

They couldn't have been far from the end when it actually happened. He'd caught up with Noctis again, and he was waiting for the biggest scare of them all. It had to be close now. They hadn't seen any necromancers yet, and he had a theory that a necromancer with potentially human zombies was probably the end. They'd chase them right on out of the house and then they'd all be laughing all the way to the car.

He hadn't bargained for the scare he actually got.

"Hey!" Gladio's sharp voice startled them both, and Prompto caught Noctis' elbow.

"Stay here a sec, okay?"

He could tell by Noctis' face that he didn't like the idea of staying here, but he nodded anyway. "Just a second though. So hurry up."

It wasn't really much of a distance. Five or six steps. In those five or six steps, Gladio continues to talk. "I told you to back off!"

It was the imp again then. Gladio was a big enough guy that in the narrowing of the hallway there wasn't much room around him on either side, so Prompto couldn't really see beyond him. That made it all the more terrifying when Gladio made a grunting noise and doubled over against the wall. For the first time, real terror rose up in Prompto's chest. He had no real facts. He had no idea what had really happened. All he knew was that Gladio was sliding down to the ground hands up to his face, and that the imp was running his way.

Normally, Prompto felt that in a fight or flight situation he was flight. He'd fucking duck and run. What else was he going to do? Just then, there was no room in his brain for flight. Just then, imp nearly in his face, and Gladio on the ground behind it, his brain only saw one option. He didn't even think about it.

He punched the imp.

The movies never tell you how much punching someone hurts. It really hurts, especially when you punch someone in the face with as much force as your puny little arms can muster, as Prompto just had. It must have hurt the imp more though, because it went down - hard. It went down in a fast tumble, and there was a clatter of metal against the ground. Prompto's blood ran cold as Noctis bolted past him. It'd been holding a knife.

"Gladio!"

His thoughts felt dull as he lifted his eyes to where Gladio was sunk against the wall. He didn't really seem to be all that much more conscious than the imp at his feet. His hands had fallen to the floor. There was a lot of blood pouring from his face. "Prompto!" His eyes moved to Noctis. It seemed like a painfully slow transition. "Call Ignis! Code: Alpha-Orange-Three!"

He fumbled with his phone, hands shaking harder than he thought they ever had before. It seemed like a miracle that he managed to unlock it and hit the call button for Ignis. Ignis picked up after the first ring, but before the second had started. He knew Ignis would know it was important. Prompto never called when texting was an option. There was no hello. Just, "What has happened?"

Deep breath. He had to get it out. "Code: Alpha-Orange-Three." He didn't know what it meant. He trusted Ignis would. A sharp breath from the other end told Prompto that Ignis knew exactly what it meant.

"Is it Noctis?"

His numb brain told him that the code probably meant an attack or injury on a very important person. That was why Ignis was asking. That made sense. "No. Gladio." He looked down at the imp. He didn't think that it was getting up any time soon. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking. "Noctis is secure."

"All right. Stay there. Assistance is on its way." The line went dead.

Prompto wasn't sure he'd survive the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
We did say _mostly_ a lighter tone. (It wasn't a lie. Promise.)
> 
> If you want to listen to the song we took the title from please [click this link!](https://youtu.be/sdExpPOwWIU)


	2. Gladiolus

Gladio woke slowly, not so much a fade into consciousness as a slow burn, a disjointed awareness of the sounds around him before he even opened his eyes. The steady beeping of machinery, sharp but distant. The low murmur of continuous noise – movement and speaking and something more – beyond the room he was in. Closer at hand, a familiar stern tone that, when he blinked away the brightness, resolved into a spiky-banged brunet at the end of his bed, expression pinched in a displeased frown as he examined a freckled hand, fussing as he was apt to do. The blond was flushed at the attention, flustered and embarrassed and astrals he wished that were him. Ignis turned the hand this way and that, examining it carefully before, quick as you please, pulling a potion from the ether and cracking it over the injured limb, deaf to the blond’s protests. The blond never thought he was worth such things – absolute bullshit, of course. It was frustrating, how little he thought he was worth, despite how hard he proved otherwise. It was frustrating to hear him protest the use of a simple potion, even after what had happened, though the details were a bit fuzzy on him at the moment. He remembered the haunted house, the build up and the anticipation and how it had been fun enough, until he’d realized that creepy little fucker was following them specifically. And then there had been a moment, when he’d taken the lead, and a flash of something sudden and sharp –

He must have made some sound, as their attention suddenly snapped over to him and the prince, who had been standing slightly off to the side watching, practically threw himself at him. He chuckled. It was funny. Half the time they were at each others’ throats over his training schedule, but when shit got serious, they had each others’ backs. Always.

“. . . hey.” The word was accompanied by a big smile. It was probably the drugs talking, but he actually felt . . . pretty good, to be honest.

“Hey?!” The prince’s tone was indignant, to say the least. “You scared the shit out of me!” He punctuated the declaration with a light punch. A sissy hit from their scrawny prince. Gladio laughed, the expression pulling a tight feeling around his bandaged . . . knife wound.

Ah. Yes. That’s right. The little fucker’d had a knife, and then. . .

One hand reached up to touch the bandage, but his fingertips had scarcely brushed against it when a hand caught his wrist and pulled it away. Long fingers remained curled around his wrist a moment more as Ignis met his eyes, lips pressed into a thin line, and shook his head. Yeah, yeah. Message received. Gladio let his hand drop back to his side, and when Ignis released him, he felt the absence of his hand keenly.

“What’s wrong, big guy?” The blond’s voice was bright as ever, though the way he picked at his fingernails betrayed his continued unease. “The scar’s just going to add to that whole. . . thing. . . you’ve got going.” The blond made a vague little gesture to, as far as he could tell, all of him. Noctis gave an amused snort, and the blond whirled on him to punch his shoulder. “Nooooooct,” he whined, and when Gladio’s gaze roved over to the third member of the group, he found Ignis smiling, expression fond. It was kind of funny, but he didn’t feel like laughing anymore. His breath caught, but when attention focused back on him, he managed a shaky smile. Probably.

“Seriously, dude!” the blond bounced forward to slight tap his arm. Was that supposed to be a punch? He could do better than that. “Chicks totally dig scars!” The punctuated the comment by crossing his arms over his chest and giving a resolute nod, aiming for knowing but coming across as confident, very cute, and absolutely unconvincing.

Did they, though? Everyone always said that. Gladio was pretty sure they just liked to fawn over a certain kind of man (rich, powerful, or attractive), and sometimes scars just came with the territory. He didn’t really find that he cared that much. That wasn’t what he wanted.

“Do you?” the words slipped out without any real thought, the feeling behind them sincere even if he’d have never uttered them sober.

“Huh?” Vivid eyes stared blankly at him for a long moment as the blond processed, then his gaze flickered to his boyfriend, a subtle panic bleeding into his stance. Finding no answers immediately at hand, his attention flickered back to the waylaid shield, and he gave a nervous laugh. “Sure, big guy, but I don’t think that really matters in this case, yeah?”

Behind him, the prince cracked up laughing, clearly finding the situation hilarious. "Oh man," he faintly heard him cackle. "They've got you on the _good_ drugs." He wasn't really paying attention to Noctis though. He was paying attention to Prompto, who'd had a wholly different reaction.

Gladio gave a big, dopey grin. The blond looked uneasy, but flushed prettily, pleased by the bigger man’s easy grin despite himself. Compliments were always nice, so long as the source wasn’t too creepy. Gladio wasn’t creepy, was he? Was it creepy, asking his cute friend if he liked scars – with his boyfriend and the literal prince of the realm in the room, no less? Ignis was going to eviscerate him, wasn’t he? Right now, he didn't care too much.

“Pardon me,” Ignis interrupted, his expression too cool to be called anything close to pleased. He gave a small nod, then abruptly stepped from the room, his attention zeroing in on the nearby nurse’s station before the door closed behind him, cutting him off from view.

After an awkward few minutes, Noctis’s laughter finally began to calm, and he dropped back into his chair. Casually, he pulled out his phone, managing to snap a photograph or two before the blond rounded on him.

“Nooooooct!”

“You little – “

The door opened again, but when blondie whirled around, presumably to greet his returning boyfriend, he froze instead with a tiny, panicked squeak. Noct barely glanced up long enough to scoff.

“Hey dad.”

“Noctis.” The King’s focus zeroed in on his son, expression softening with relief at seeing him in person, without question safe and sound, despite the somewhat questionable stains still on his person. “I’m relieved to see you well.” The man’s attention shifted past the blond with the smallest quirk of a smile to settle on the hospital bed. “Gladiolus,” his voice was formal, despite the hint of a smile that accompanied it. “The Line of Lucis is lucky to have you in its service.”

The King paused, and Gladio managed a “yes, sir,” vaguely aware that wasn’t quite the appropriate response, even without his own father giving him a pointed look or the slight slur of his words. The King merely chuckled.

“And my son,” he added warmly, turning back to the blond, “is lucky to have such a steadfast and courageous friend.”

Prompto managed to stutter out something that resembled an appropriate response, deeply flushed and equally flustered. King Regis merely waved off the blond’s floundering with a small gesture before stepping forward to grasp Gladio’s shoulder. For a moment, he paused, his expression suddenly serious as he examined the younger’s shield’s face, gaze lingering on the bandage that nearly covered the entire right side. After a moment, the hand squeezed his shoulder, and with characteristic gravitas he added a simple “Well done” before releasing his shoulder, giving it a pat, and pulling away entirely.

The King’s attention returned to his son, but he only frowned before turning back toward the door. The prince didn’t so much a look up from his phone. Gladio’s father moved to follow, only pausing to give his son a very particular sort of look, and then to extract a promise from Ignis where he was lingering by the door to “see my son home, won’t you?”

Ignis, for his part, bent into a formal bow, quick to assure Lord Amicita that, yes, of course he would. It would be his honour.

And then, just like that, they were gone, and the four younger were alone in the room again. Ignis paused before letting the door fall shut again, then moved back to the younger shield’s bedside.

“The nurse assures me that Gladio is on the correct dosage.” The comment was clearly not meant for him, but it was really kind of insulting that Ignis was talking like he wasn’t even there. The brunet turned his attention to the hospital bed, because apparently he was actually supposed to hear this part. “Your father will sign you out, and then I can accompany you home.” He paused again. It was funny, Iggy and his dramatic timing. “You as well, Your Highness.” Ya knew Iggy meant business when he brought out the titles. Then again, that was pretty much all the time, with the titles. That was their Ignis. Iggy. Ignis, all business.

He was so cute, too, though – always had been, when he thought about it, excepting that period when he’d gotten a little too serious to ever really be considered fun. They were both cute – both Ignis and Prompto – though it took them being Ignis _and _Prompto for him to really think anything of it.

It had been all well and good when Gladio’s main complaint was only that all his friends were ridiculously, unfairly attractive. Not just the four of them (himself included, of course), even. And that wasn’t really a complaint. Just. A little awkward, sometimes. When things happened. Or if anyone had ever called him on it, when he let his gaze linger a little too long. There was nothing wrong with looking, right? Not if that was all it ever was.

But now. Fucking astrals. It was a hell of a lot more than “what’s in the water that everyone around me is so sixdamn hot?” Now it was Ignis going out of his way to favour the blond’s tastes and outright laughing when His Royal Pickiness complained about bits of celery too small to pick out of his soup. It was Gladio pretending not to notice the way his childhood friend was quick to soothe the anxiety that tightened the blond’s brow, fingers curling against sun-kissed freckles like they were just the most precious thing. It was pretending to think nothing of the way that Prompto bounced into the kitchen after the brunet, flushed and cheerful and easing the tenseness from the other man’s shoulders with a few soft words and a kiss on the cheek.

The nurse arrived to remove Gladio’s IV and deliver the usual hospital-sanctioned lecture, though with Gladio still too woozy to entirely concentrate, the bulk of it was directed to Ignis instead. Shortly after, Ignis shooed the two younger off with a Crownsguard escort – both with the assurance he’d be by later and the blond with, Gladio didn’t fail to notice, a peck on the lips. When they offered to assist with the injured shield, he assured them that he had the situation “well in hand,” resulting in a burst of giggling from both.

Yeah, okay. Gladio giggled a bit at that one, too, even if it kinda hurt. He was pretty sure the drugs were starting to wear off. Hopefully they’d be sending him home with something.

Shortly after they were wheeling the shield out to Ignis’ car, despite his entirely valid protests that he was perfectly capable of walking thank you very much. But hospital policy was hospital policy, after all, as the nurse was all too cheerful to remind him.

Despite the relative brevity of the distance, Gladio found himself drifting off during the ride to Amicita manor. One minute he was admiring the way the streetlights moved across Ignis’ cheeks in the fading daylight, and the next thing he knew, he was being shaken awake, gentle but insistent. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see not just Ignis leaning over him, passenger door hanging open, but also a familiar set of anxious brown eyes.

“Hey Moogle.”

“Hey Gladio.” The girl’s bottom lip trembled slightly when she spoke, immediately activating every protective instinct he ever had. No one was allowed to make his little sister cry. He’d kick their ass. He’d kick anyone’s ass. He’d kick his own damn ass.

“Let’s get you upstairs.” Ignis hooked an arm around him, helping him out of the car and to the front door, Iris hovering anxiety on his other side. Gladio managed to get his feet properly under him about the time they stumbled into the foyer. Gods he was tired. Everything felt heavy. And his face was really starting to fucking hurt.

“One foot in front of the other,” the brunet chided gently. He was so used to seeing his friend bend over backwards for the prince’s every whim, he almost forgot how good he was at this when it was actually warranted. A year ago he’d have teased him about it. Called it mothering. Now it just made him ache.

“Easy, Gladio.” They took it slowly up the stairs, losing his sister somewhere along the way. His room was closest to the top of the stairs, and then it was only a few steps more to his bed. Ignis tried to lower him down slowly, but Gladio himself misjudged and sank against the mattress with a muffled oof. The brunet went to work on stripping him with businesslike efficiency and had him under the covers before his sister returned with a glass of water. Gladio tried to stay awake past swallowing a couple pills, but he could already feel things starting to get fuzzy when he handed the glass back. He faintly registered the sound of the two’s voices, muted and mellow, the feel the blanket being pulled up to his chin, long fingers tucking the hair away from his face. His eyes blinked closed on the sight of striking green eyes, a familiar brow furrowed with thinly veiled worry. Everything felt and sounded like it was underwater, and he was drifting way.

When he woke, it was light outside, though for how long it had been, he couldn’t say. His curtains were partially open, and the manor was quiet. For a long moment, he didn’t move, allowing a lingering grogginess to lift, but soon the thought of getting up was far less unbearable than the need to find something – anything – to dull the pain radiating from the bandaged side of this face. Bandaged over one eye, though the eye itself hadn’t been damaged, right? Yeah. He remembered. Yesterday. (Yesterday?) The haunted house. That fucker with the knife. And Prom. . .

The kid had guts, he’d give him that. Maybe someone would actually teach him out to throw a punch, after this. He could do it. He could totally do it and wouldn’t even mind.

And the prince. . . Noct must have been okay, or Ignis’ first (or second or third) priority wouldn’t have been giving him a ride home.

He sat up slowly, frowning towards the clock on his night stand – 11:15 – before noticing the refilled glass of water, two pills next to it, waiting. Thank fuck Ignis or Iris or whoever’d had the foresight. That was something, at least. Hopefully something that would kick in quickly.

In the meantime, he really had to fucking pee. And probably he should eat something. Check his phone, wherever it was, find out who was around in the process. It was. . . Sunday? Iris should still be home, right?

The house was quiet, though it was hard to say whether it was out of consideration or because he was alone. His father would be at the Citadel, of course, and Jared was away visiting family. Probably Iris at least was around. He couldn’t imagine they’d leave him completely alone after a head injury, even if he was probably fine. And Iris had looked so upset the night before(?). No way was she taking off before she could give him a hard time, at the very least.

It was what it was. Everyone was okay. Or okay as they needed to be. He’d get a badass scar out of it. And as they say, chicks dig scars, right? He groaned, remembering what he’d asked Prompto the night before. No way to take that back, now. Idiot. Though at least they had seemed willing to blame it on the drugs rather than him (constantly) thinking about how cute his friends were.

Gods, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep. Or maybe train until he was too tired to remember how much of an ass he'd made of himself – not just blabbing about his feelings but also how fucking quickly he’d gone down gods his dad had to be so disappointed in him and how he’d gotten so fucking lucky that it had turned out okay. . . but even he knew he wasn’t up for training yet. Sleeping it was. Shit. At least he had the day off. If he could just find his fucking phone.

He was washing his hands when a tentative knock sounded on his door, Iris’ head poking in after a moment with one hand over her eyes like a blinder. “Gladdy?” she called softly, “are you decent?”

He chuckled, regretting it a little for the way it made his face twinge. But the pills were already kicking in. It wasn’t too bad. It definitely could be worse.

“Yeah, Moogle. It’s safe to come in.”

The girl dropped her hand, then bolted over to where he stood in the bathroom doorway, tackling him in a hug that would have dropped a smaller man. Possibly him as well, if he hadn’t braced for impact.

“Gladdy, you asshole!” He tried not to laugh, he really did. He really should have been scolding her. After all, he definitely did not approve of his fourteen-year-old sister swearing. But there was something about her punching him while also hugging him that just. . . activated his laugh reflex. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Hey, everyone’s fine.” He gave her a quick squeeze, not wanting to hold too tight. Iris was tough as nails, but she was still so little, compared to him. And he could pretend he didn’t feel that damp spot on his shirt, right? “I’m going to have this badass scar that’s going to make all your little girlfriends even more wild over your big brother.”

“GLADDY EWWWWWW.” She shoved him away, her pretty face twisted in disgust.

“Besides. . .” he added with a mischievous grin, head tilted slightly to size her up with his uncovered eye. “. . . if I wasn’t okay. . .” he snatched her back up, fingers digging into her ribs expertly, “. . .could I do this?” The girl shrieked, thrashing and wiggling and he tickled her senseless. It was a much better sound than the anxiety her voice had radiated before.

It wasn’t the romantic love he was yearning for. It wasn’t starlight and fireworks. But this. This was nice. And right here, right now. . . it was enough.


	3. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday.
> 
> Please enjoy.

Prompto flexed his hand above him. The skin of his knuckles was smooth, painless, and didn't even hold a hint of irritation. It was still baffling to him. For hours after the attack he'd had painful split knuckles, because that was apparently what actually happened to hands when you punched someone hard enough to knock their lights out. He hadn't even noticed it at first, but once the paramedics and back up had arrived Prompto had simply tried to stay out of their way, and the adrenaline had started to go down. That was when he'd _really_ first noticed the pain. He'd ignored it. There were Crownsguard wandering around, including Cor the Immortal taking statements from employees. Gladio's whole face had been bleeding. A would be assassin needed to be taken away. It was a whole big scene and he didn't need to make it bigger by pointing out his minor injury.

Ignis had arrived at about the time they were loading up Gladio into the ambulance and had taken both him and Noctis to the hospital. Ignis hadn't noticed either, for a little while. He must have started favoring that hand, because he didn't really think Ignis would have noticed otherwise. _"Did no one look you over at the scene?"_ His voice had been calm, but Prompto could feel the anger that bubbled underneath. _"They should have looked you over and treated this there."_

_"Pretty sure they'd had more important things to worry about, Iggy."_ Like the prince's shield practically bleeding out in the corner.

Ignis had held out his hand. _"That does not make your pain unimportant."_ He hadn't really wanted to, but still, he'd put his injured hand in Ignis' to examine. He'd expected some sort of tsking, he'd expected Ignis to get up and demand a nurse bandage it, or even to bandage it himself. What he'd gotten instead was Ignis slamming a potion over it. The shock of it aching and oozing one second and not even fucking existing the next had somehow hurt more than it had the previous hours, if only for a moment.

To say he didn't know what curatives were or what they did would be a lie. Most people knew about them, but most people knew about them practically as the things of legend. Prompto, like most people, had first learned about them from books in school. How curatives had helped win wars in the past, by keeping more of Lucis' soldiers alive. They were things that only the royal line could make, and there were actually days of every year set aside for the production of them. The most powerful of them, the phoenix down, was kept only to royalty itself. He would later learn that most curatives were kept in the Armiger, but phoenix downs were only kept on a royal person. For. Morbid reasons Prompto didn't want to think about.

The first time Prompto had ever encountered a curative personally had been in high school. It hadn't been serious. He'd just been really tired. When he'd confessed that to Noctis, he'd been asked if he had an energy drink, which of course he had, because how else had he been going to get through his day? He'd handed it over to Noctis, and Noctis had . . . done something to it. He hadn't really explained, just said that it would "put the pep back in his step." Boy how it had put pep in his step. At first, he'd thought that had been all it had done, but later he'd realized that running aches, three reckless bruises, and a scratch earned from a cat that had not actually wanted to be held had also disappeared.

That was when he'd figured out that Noctis had just made him a potion on the fly. That was just how Nocits made them. He made them casually from energy drinks or even Ebonys sometimes. They didn't crack over wounds like the professional ones. You had to drink them, and they were less powerful. Internally Prompto whined. If he'd had to have a potion, why couldn't he have had one of those, and not the really expensive-looking one? It was overkill--

"Eos to Prompto." Noctis' voice pulled him out of what were probably daydreams and he let his eyes slide over to his friend. "What are you thinking about in there?"

"The history of potions." That wasn't really a lie was it? Because he hadn't meant to lie to Noctis.

Regardless, Noctis snorted. "Does your hand still hurt? Do you need another--"

"I definitely don't need another, dude." He hadn't really needed the first one, but he didn't say that. He'd probably get some argument about it. He didn't feel like arguing. He didn't really feel like doing anything. They'd eaten delivery pizza, they'd started watching a movie, but now Prompto noticed that had been turned off too. Maybe Noctis hadn't really been paying attention either.

"Let's just go to bed." Noctis grumbled more than said. Yeah, their minds were definitely reflecting one another. "I don't want to brain anymore today."

"You don't want to brain ever."

"Braining is hard, but especially right now. Let's just go sleep." Honestly, Prompto couldn't even argue with that, braining was definitely hard, especially right now, and sleeping sounded great. He nodded. They got up.

Spending the night at Noctis' place was an old song and dance by now, though he hadn't done it since he'd become Ignis' boyfriend. Still, it was easy to fall into the automatic motions that were usually preformed at one or two in the morning and not nine at night. They were still roughly the same size, so a sleep shirt and pants were shoved at him, and there was a toothbrush kept in one corner of the medicine cabinet. After that, the normal thing was to drag down blankets from the top of the closet to go curl up on the couch, but when Prompto went to start that step, Noctis stopped him.

"Don't bother," he grumbled sleepily, tugging lightly at Prompto's shirt. "Just come sleep with me." Prompto snorted, and Noctis glared, or glared as much as someone who was half asleep on their feet could. "You know what I mean."

Prompto did, but that wasn't going to stop him from teasing. "I-D-K, man, Ignis might get jealous."

"I am the crown prince of Lucis," Noctis said indignantly, "and if I want you in my bed, Specs is just gonna have to get over it." Prompto was still laughing, even as he was pulled over, but he didn't argue. It wasn't as though Noctis' bed wasn't big enough for both of them, and it wasn't like Prompto really didn't know what Noctis meant. Not only that, Prompto was reminded as he shimmied himself under the covers, but Noctis' bed was way more comfortable than his couch.

Prompto didn't think he really fell asleep. He didn't dream, but he drifted. He drifted far enough off that the next thing he knew, the bedroom door was being opened, and he had Noctis' head pressed into his collarbone. "That you, Iggy?" Oh man, his voice was slurred. He had definitely been mostly asleep.

"Yes, it's me."

" 'Kay."

"Everythin' okay, Specs?" Now Noctis was awake, too, or at least a quarter awake, considering how much his own words were slurring.

"Everything is all right. Gladio ought to be asleep by now himself."

" 'Sss good. Your turn."

"All right. Let me get a couple things settled, and then I'll take Prompto up--"

"Nuh-uh," Noctis grouched. "Now. Here. Get in."

"Highness." Was it just Prompto? Or was Ignis' voice closer now. "I hardly think that's appropriate."

"It's fine. I'm already warm here." That wasn't a lie. There was a certain feeling that one got when they'd settled into bed, and Prompto had already achieved that feeling. "It's been a long day." That was also definitely true. He was pretty sure Noctis had pulled him into his bed because he didn't want to be alone after this afternoon. Prompto couldn't blame him.

"Come on." Noctis wasn't waking up as well as Prompto was. His words were only getting more whiny and slurred. "We used to sleep in the same bed all the time."

Ignis tsked. "I would hardly call it 'all the time.' That aside, you were seven." He huffed. "I suppose I'll just have to go all the way upstairs--" Prompto wasn't imagining it this time. Ignis' voice had definitely gotten closer. "Without my boyfriend. To my cold, lonely bed--" Ignis gave a gasp that was at least half drama as Prompto turned around, grabbed his arm, and yanked him down. "Oh no," he said very unconvincingly. "I'm trapped. Whatever shall I do?"

"Go to sleep," Noctis grouched.

They laid there very awkwardly for a couple of minutes with Ignis only mostly on the bed and Prompto holding onto his arm, chin set against his shoulder. Ignis eventually tapped his shoulder. "Yes, all right, let me up." Prompto reluctantly did, but Ignis didn't leave. He only slid off his jacket and then properly got underneath the blankets. It was a tight fit, but truth be told, Prompto wasn't complaining about being trapped. With Noctis behind him and Ignis in front, Prompto felt truly safe for perhaps the first time since the Horror House. The way Ignis' arms wrapped around him told him that Ignis hadn't been totally unaffected by the whole thing either. Getting that phone call had probably been a heart attack and a half. It was all right now, though. Gladio would live, and he didn't think any of them were ever going to get foot in a Horror House again.

For what felt like a long time, Prompto slept, dreaming dreams he wouldn't remember and briefly waking up in between in a bed he wasn't really familiar with before falling back asleep. When he finally woke up for any real length of time, it was clearly morning. Light was coming in between Noct's curtains and he felt awake, if not really fully rested. Noctis was still asleep behind him, but Ignis was up. If the smell that softly drifted through the room was any indication, he hadn't gone far - just to the kitchen, almost like a normal morning.

Prompto got up, only receiving mild, grumbling complaints from a not-really-awake prince as he stumbled off toward the kitchen. It looked like Ignis was making Altissian toast. If he was making something sweet, Prompto was pretty sure Ignis had not forgotten yesterday at all. He was being . . . well, ironically, sweet. "Morning."

"Good morning." A mug of coffee, the way Prompto liked to drink coffee, was slid across the counter, and yep, Ignis was definitely being a little sweeter than normal this morning. "How did you sleep?"

"Probably about the same as you." Not great, in other words. Did you ever sleep really well in a bed you weren't used to?

"Ah, maybe you can sneak a nap in later."

"Maybe you could too," he said back as he lifted his mug up. He got a look for that, and Prompto lowered it just a little to grin at him. Ignis didn't nap. He knew that. "So."

"So?" Ignis turned back to his cooking, and Prompto considered that a good thing. It felt normal.

"Did you really used to sleep in Noct's bed all the time?"

Ignis tsked. "I maintain that it was not all the time."

"Buuuut?" There was definitely a but there.

"But it perhaps wasn't uncommon that we fell asleep together or that I spent the night. We were younger then, and Noctis was a lonely child who tended to get upset when I left. As I said, he was seven, and we were . . . closer then."

Well, that was super adorable, and Prompto definitely wanted pictures. "What changed?" Close wouldn't be the word Prompto would have used for Ignis and Noctis when he'd first wiggled his way into Noctis' life. They'd been distant in the way teenagers and their parents often were. Prompto had known they'd loved one another. He'd known Ignis was endlessly loyal, but close . . . like friends close? Prompto hadn't guessed that for a while after meeting him.

"It was the car accident." Oh. Oh yeah. The car accident. Prompto didn't think about it a lot. They hadn't been friends then. Hell, Prompto hadn't even been trying to become worthy of being his friend then. He'd just been a fat kid. Still, it had been all over the news. Someone had tried to kill the prince by ramming a car into the one he was in at top speed. Someone had died. Noctis had been severely injured.

"Not many people are really aware that the king absconded to Tenebrae with Noctis after that." Ignis didn't have to say why. It was for healing from the Nox Fleurets. "Noctis left broken and in pain and returned whole, but he was not the same. I was not the same. It was only a few months, but--" Ignis halted. He didn't have to say it, though. Prompto understood. It was only a few months, but things had changed, and they hadn't gone back.

The topic dropped after that, and they ate breakfast in mostly silence, which gave away the sort of tired atmosphere that lingered even after sleep. After they'd finished eating, they got up to wash dishes, and that was about the time that Noctis stumbled out of his room. Once Noctis had his own breakfast in front of him, Ignis said he was going to go upstairs to his apartment and get changed. "Do you want me to bring you down a change of clothes?"

"Sure," Prompto said without thinking before he whipped his head back around. "Actually my own clothes this time, thanks."

Ignis only chuckled at his clarification, but said nothing before he left. "I knew that wasn't your sweater," Noctis mumbled around a bite of food.

"Nope, it's his."

" . . . do I want to know why?"

For a quick second, Prompto's mind blanked. Why--Oh. "Nothing _dirty!_ It's because he thought it was too cold to go out without sleeves."

"You wear tank-tops in the dead of winter."

"I know, but he insisted." He didn't mention how soft it was, or how it subtly smelled of Ignis, and he liked that. No. He didn't mention that. That was just inviting trouble.

A faint chiming hit his ears. "Is that your phone?"

"No," Noctis said with a quick shake of his head. "I think it's yours."

His . . . his . . . why would his phone be ringing? "Oh man, it's Sunday!" He dropped the fork back into the sink and ran for the bedroom. He grabbed it just in time to answer before the FaceTime invitation stopped. "Hey, Mom. Dad." He flopped back onto the bed, feeling like he'd run a short marathon between the sink and the bedroom.

_"Hiii, Baby~!"_ Prompto resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead focused on the screen. His parents were almost always somewhere different every week, and they liked to call him from outside, so it was always sort of a game for him, guessing where they were. Today it looked dry outside. Just. Very. Dry. _"How are you?"_

"Yesterday was kind of rough."

_"Aww. Was it? What happened?"_

Did he tell his parents that an assassin had tried to kill his friend and had sliced up another friend's face in the process before he'd (somehow) just managed to punch them out and everything turned out (sort of?) fine? No. Maybe not that detailed of an explanation. "Noct, Gladio, and I went to the Horror House, one of the good ones, and it . . . uh . . . Gladio got hurt."

_"Oh no!"_ His mother's concern was genuine, and his father's face looked worried too.

_"Is he okay?"_

"He had to go to the hospital, but he's going to be okay. He went home last night, but. Don't think we're going to a Horror House any time soon."

_"I would certainly say not!"_

_"I'm glad he's okay."_

"Me, too," Prompto whispered past a tightness in his throat. What would have happened if Gladio hadn't been okay? It would have been horrible. He didn't even want to imagine it. They bickered sometimes, but they'd also become a lot closer these last few months. He often met up with Gladio for his morning runs now. They spent more time together, even just as the group of them. If Gladio hadn't been okay . . . it would be such a hole in his life. Gods, losing any of them would be an irreparable hole. He didn't even want to think about it. "So, how are you guys?"

_"Well,"_ his mother said. She was wearing her face-splitting grin, which always said that she was up to something. Prompto loved that grin. Prompto loved his mother and her kooky plans. He loved her energy and brightness, just as much as he loved his father being the exact opposite. Someone had to ground her, right? He got a full view of that grin and his father's pale-by-comparison smile, and then she moved the phone away, and he got a good look at their surroundings. _"Can you guess what region we're in, Prom?"_

Prompto wasn't smart. He made stupid mistakes on math equations and couldn't remember the order of kings. He couldn't tell you what the national language of Altissia was, and he couldn't tell you how hot Lestallum was in winter or how cold Gralea got in summer. What he could do was look at the picture on the screen, see how dry and almost bare the land around was, and know that his parents were for sure in "Leide."

_"That's right!"_ That was really close to Insomnia. He dared to have a little hope. His hope was rewarded. _"We'll be home by your birthday! Do you have any plans yet?"_

Prompto shook his head a little. "Not that I know of, anyway." He knew his friends had to be plotting something. They'd been a little too suspiciously quiet for there to not be something going on, but . . . his parents being in town? That was too much of a gift to pass up.

_"Great! Invite that boyfriend of yours over for dinner. I'll make something special, and we can all finally get to know each other!"_

Prompto's heart pounded with happiness in his chest. "That sounds amazing."

He talked with his parents for a couple more minutes before they disconnected with the promise of seeing each other in person soon. He tumbled himself back out of Noct's bedroom and told him what had happened during their conversation. He could faintly hear the front door opening just as he finished his explanation. Noct whistled low. "Man, he's not gonna like that."

"Who's not going to like what?"

"I'll be in my room," Noctis said very quickly as he hopped up to his feet and retreated to the bedroom as though the whole apartment wasn't his.

"What's going on?" Ignis sat down a small bundle of clothes that Prompto assumed were for him and then came around the counter. "I was only gone for about fifteen minutes."

"I got my weekly call from my parents."

"I see. And?"

Prompto found himself bouncing on his feet with excitement. "And they're going to be home for my birthday!" He waited a second for some sort of shared excitement on Ignis' end, and when it didn't come, he pressed on, perhaps a little more worried than before. "They wanna meet you. Mom's gonna make dinner, and you can finally meet my folks!"

"Hmm." That was not the good hmm. "Do they respond to texts?"

"I mean, yeah? Not right away usually, but they do."

"Please text them and tell them that we can't come over to your place, but they are welcome to join us for dinner at my place." The words all by themselves were pleasant enough, but there was definitely fire and determination burning behind that expression, and Prompto could not place the why. he just knew he had to put it out.

"Oh, come on, Iggy. You always cook. Mom's a good cook! Let her cook for you, for us! It'll be nice."

Ignis sighed and sat down, which was a sign that Prompto should sit down too, so he did. "I see I'm not going to get away with not telling you now."

"Telling me what? That you had plans for my birthday? I knew that, but this is just dinner. It can't be that big of a deal."

"Ah, but Prompto, the bulk of my plans did revolve around this dinner. You see, darling, I'm moving."

"What?!" Prompto squawked. "Moving?! When? How? Why? Where?!"

Ignis' amused chuckle reached his ears at about the same time that one hand reached his face. His thumb stroked along his cheek, or, more specifically, the freckles that for some sixforesaken reason Ignis actually liked. "I'm not moving far, just up one floor. I've been finding my apartment has been feeling rather small, so I put in a request for a larger space, and it was granted. I've been having some things moved for a little while now, but the bulk of the move will be over the next few days. It should be finished on your birthday."

The desk, Prompto realized, still stuck a few sentences back. Ignis hadn't been working at the table because his desk was too small. He'd been working at the table because his desk was up in this new apartment.

Ignis was still talking. "It was Uncle Ventus' idea that we combine my housewarming with your birthday. I thought it was a good idea. A good excuse to have my uncles over, and a good excuse for not all the attention to be on you. I know you don't like that, after all." That . . . that was true. He definitely didn't like having all the attention on him. "It was going to be a surprise, all of it, but this has thrown a wrench into the surprise of it, at least. It'd be no problem to just add them to the housewarming, though. Then they can meet all of us at once." Ignis smiled. It didn't quite carry to his eyes. No. Noctis had definitely been right. Ignis did not like this. "I think that will work out excellently."

Ignis' hand finally fell away from his face, and Prompto took that as cue to pull out his phone and start texting his parents. He glanced up at Ignis several times as he did. He swore every time he did his face was a little more stern, eyes staring at a spot on the table. He was planning. Plotting. Something. It was the look he had on his face at the end of a bad work day, sometimes, when he was definitely figuring out how to exact revenge on a council member for some bullshit they said. Why did Ignis hate his parents like that? He'd never even met them!

"Done."

"Wonderful. Do let me know when they reply." He was smiling again, but Prompto knew it was put on. For him. He was putting on a smile for him. He put on a smile right back.

"I will." Ignis leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I want to help you move."

"You certainly do not have to."

"But I wanna. I can come by after work the next couple days and move stuff. I assume you're gonna be putting it in boxes."

"Some of it yes. The rest will be left to professional movers." Ignis sighed, his eyes gave him a once over that had absolutely nothing to do with attraction or sex. "I suppose you could help pick up some of the slack Gladio will be leaving in the wake of his injury."

"Gladio's gonna be helping?"

"Yes, that was the plan, but we'll have to see how he's doing in a couple days."

"Will Noct be helping?"

Ignis chuckled. "No. He'll be working." Prompto supposed that figured.

Ignis' phone went off. Ignis had a couple different ringtones, Prompto had heard each of them enough to know that this was not only a text, but a text from someone Citadel important. He wasn't in the habit of wanting to die, so he leaned back in his chair and let Ignis answer. It only took him a moment, maybe even less than ten seconds, and then his eyes looked up at him again and he explained. "That was Cor. It looks like we're all going to the Citadel."

"What? Why?!" Prompto could count the number of times he'd actually been to the Citadel on one hand, and to be perfectly honest, he didn't really like going there. He didn't belong, and he swore that everyone who looked at him knew it too. He avoided going there whenever possible.

"Cor needs your statements about yesterday's incident." And dammit if that wasn't a perfectly legitimate reason to make him go, but dammit if he still really didn't want to.

He tried to find a silver lining. "I suppose we could go visit Gladio afterward?" He'd never, never ever, been to the Amicitia Estate. He imagined it was just as large and terrifying as the Citadel itself, but he was willing to go for Gladio. Ignis shook his head, and Prompto groaned. "He's been assigned strict bedrest, hasn't he?"

"Indeed he has, for today at least. Feel free to text him your well wishes, though, and I'll inform him tomorrow that you did not forget about him. That aside, I'll probably remain at the office, anyway, to catch up on some of the paperwork that would otherwise overwhelm me tomorrow."

Prompto squinted at Ignis. That whole thing was a whole statement on its own, but there was just something about the way he said it . . . "Sounds like there's a 'however' there."

Ignis smiled, it was a much more real smile this time, and something around his heart unclenched. "However, I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner tomorrow night. I was planning on sweeping you away yesterday evening, but then the incident happened, and we were lucky just to get back here." Wasn't that the truth? "I know they weren't official plans to you, but I was hoping to cash in the rain check?"

Prompto smiled a much more real smile, too. "Sounds great, Iggy."

What wasn't great was collecting Noctis from his room at that point and heading up to the Citadel. Just getting into its shadow was enough for Prompto to sink down in his seat and feel incredibly small. Noctis and Ignis seemed unaffected by it, but then again, they came here five days a week. They'd grown up here. Here was probably more home than anything else. Prompto didn't think he could ever feel like that. He distracted himself by texting Gladio a feel better and see you soon message. Gladio didn't respond, but then if he was still on the drugs, Prompto supposed he was probably asleep.

It wasn't until they'd parked and they were about to get out that Ignis spoke again. "I'll arrange to have Lars take you both home."

"Ugh. Lars."

"Someday, Highness, you're going to have to stop reacting to him like that."

"Yeah, well, not today."

They parted ways at the third floor. Ignis' office was apparently higher up, and Cor's was a bit of a walk from there. It wasn't until the elevator (damn elevators, Prompto's heart would be racing for at least ten minutes) closed behind them that Noctis spoke up. "Don't have Lars take you home. Just say you're gonna stick around for a while with me. Even if you go home right after."

"Why?"

Noctis' face got really tight. "Just trust me."

"Okay." He paused, just for a second. "So who's Lars, anyway?"

"You know how like lead actors for plays and stuff have an understudy? Someone who knows all their lines and stuff, just in case the lead actor gets sick or has an accident?"

"Yeah?"

"Lars is Specs' understudy."

Prompto blinked. He'd never thought about it. He'd never given thought to the idea that everyone was replaceable and there were potential replacements in place. The very idea that if something happened to Ignis, there was someone there who could just step in and do his job was . . . unnerving. "I take it you don't like Lars?"

"I fucking hate Lars, but I never said that, okay? Lars is great. He's very ambitious and hard-working. I love his ass kissing." Prompto snorted. Noctis hated ass kissers more than he hated almost anything else except for maybe vegetables. Except from Prompto. Or maybe Noctis had just never figured out he was ass kissing.

Noctis stopped in front of a door that had a very official looking sign on it that read 'Cor Leonis, Marshal of the Crownsguard.' Noctis knocked. Prompto held his breath. "Come in." Noctis didn't hesitate to open the door, but Prompto definitely hesitated to follow. Ultimately, though, he had no choice, and Noctis shut the door behind him, trapping them in.

It was kind of odd, seeing Cor the Immortal, a celebrated soldier, sitting down behind a desk like he was a paper pusher. To be fair, though, his expression said that he liked sitting there about as much as Prompto thought it looked odd. Or maybe that was just his face. Prompto wasn't sure. Regardless, Cor had them sit, his voice perfectly agreeable despite his sour expression. "It's nothing overly serious," he said, probably more for Prompto's benefit than Noctis'. "I just want a verbal recounting from both of you, and then I'll have you look over a couple papers, sign them, and you can go back to enjoying your Sunday."

"Sounds great," Prompto squeaked.

Noctis went first. It didn't take him long to tell his side, because, by his own admission, he wasn't really aware that anything was wrong until Gladio was facing the imp down. "Gladio had called him out before," he said, "but I really thought he was just . . . showing off or being overprotective. I didn't think there was danger until Gladio was falling over."

"And then?"

"And then I could see it - him - running toward us. Prompto was between him and me, and then the imp was down because Prompto punched him in the face. Just pow, and he was down."

"Is that true?" Cor asked Prompto, his icy eyes boring straight through his skull and into his brain.

"I mean. Yeah?" Prompto looked down at his lap where his hands pressed tightly against his thighs. "I saw him coming toward us and I just. Reacted. To be honest, I didn't even really think about it. I just did it. It happened so fast." They always said that, didn't they? But it was true. There'd been no time.

"Hmm," Cor went, his pen making notes on a paper in front of him. "You trusted your instincts."

"I . . . guess?"

Then came more pen scratching. "Hmmmmm."

Fifteen more minutes of torture later, they were released from captivity, and Prompto thought there couldn't be anything worse than that, at least, until they got to the end of the hall.

At the end of the hall, a man was waiting for them. Prompto had several reactions at once. The first was that if he'd never seen Ignis before, and he'd only heard people vaguely describe him, he might think this was Ignis. Styled hair, wearing a fitted suit, glasses, not skinny, but lean. In other ways, though, he was very much not Ignis at all, and honestly, if you'd asked Prompto to perfectly describe both the terms "paper pusher" and "Lucian purebred," he'd point at this man. His coloring was Lucian in the extreme: dark hair and eyes with pale, creamy skin that Prompto could only dream of (and utterly envy). He carried a suitcase, and though the closer they got the more Prompto realized that the man was actually shorter than him, Prompto also knew those eyes were looking down at him.

Definitely Lucian purebred and proud.

Next to him, Noctis made a soft scoffing noise, and Prompto realized that this must be Lars.

"Your Highness," Lars said, inclining his head slightly. It was a show of respect, yet Prompto felt no respect from it. Lars was only going through the motions. "I was informed that you and your . . . cohort--" Eyes slid back over to him, and Prompto did not miss the disgust that lay there. That. That was why Noctis didn't want him in the car alone with him. The xenophobic comments would come out the moment they were alone, if not before. "Are in need of an escort."

"I can drive myself. You don't need to trouble yourself, Lars."

"I have been informed that it's better for you to . . . not drive unattended." Prompto did not need to be looking at Noctis to know there was some form of eye rolling, whether internal or external, going on at that comment. "It would be my pleasure to assist."

"Sure. Yeah. Okay."

Lars turned on his heel and made his way back toward the elevator, clearly expecting them to follow. They did follow, but not before Noctis gave Prompto an exaggerated outward eyeroll and gesture in Lars' direction. Prompto managed a smile and shrug in return, and off toward the dreaded elevator they went.

The drive back to the apartment building was quiet. Lars didn't allow music in the car, and he certainly didn't attempt any form of conversation. Prompto took to looking out the window about halfway through, though it seemed like every time he looked away for a moment, he caught dark eyes glancing back at them in the rearview mirror. It made his skin crawl a little.

Unlike Ignis, who parked in the parking deck for the building, Lars just pulled up front and let them out, though he did ask (and it was asking, in that nice polite, political way that Prompto would never master) Noctis to stay behind for a moment. Prompto waited for what felt like ten minutes, but was only less than a minute according to his phone, before Noctis got out, shutting the door a little too sharply and marching up to Prompto and through the door. "What did he say?"

"Nothing important," Noctis grouched, but judging by his sour expression he'd said something very upsetting indeed. The expression faded about an hour into playing video games, but Prompto also made sure to not stay too late. By five o'clock he pried himself away and went home. He did have work in the morning after all, or at least that was the excuse he used. He didn't really feel tired at all and ended up staying awake until well after ten.

Monday brought rain with it, which normally didn't mess with his schedule too much. He still got up in the morning, went for his run, showered, and then did whatever else. He did the same today, but it was getting to that time of year where while it wasn't cold enough for snow, the rain was practically freezing as it hit him. His shower afterward was long and hot, but he was cold again by the time he got to the cafe. The rain also meant the cafe was slow, though that didn't mean there wasn't work to be done. There was always cleaning to be caught up on, and Prompto (happily) spent most of his work day washing the ceiling tiles that needed the washing way more than he cared to admit. Ma said she was sorry it was slow, but Prompto wasn't sad about it. He still got paid, and it had kept him busy.

He took a nap, as he normally did on days after work when he was planning on meeting up with any of his friends (or boyfriend in this case), but when he'd finally fully woken up again, he found a text on his phone from Ignis.

**Ignis, 5:39 p.m.** : _Something appears to have come up, and I won't be home on time. Use your discretion._

Use your discretion mostly meant that a last minute meeting had come up and Ignis would likely not be home until seven or later, which meant they wouldn't actually get out to the date until even later, which was doable, but really late for him with his own job in the morning, and that made it up to him. Prompto sighed. This was a thing that happened sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. It came with Ignis' job, and Prompto understood that, but that didn't mean it wasn't disappointing. Of course it was. He did his best to never begrudge it, though. After all, without his job, who would Ignis be? He wouldn't be Ignis.

Well, Prompto thought as he pulled on his jacket to protect himself from the rain, maybe they couldn't go out to dinner, but he could spent a little time with him, right? If it was late enough, maybe he could convince Ignis to order pizza or something. That wouldn't be terrible. Getting Ignis to eat take out pizza was always a treat.

He grabbed his umbrella on his way out the door, and by the time he'd made it to the apartment building, he was very glad he'd chosen both. The only thing that had saved his feet were the fact that they were in waterproofed faux leather boots. Without the umbrella, the rest of him would have been soggy toast.

After a very brief conversation about 'why yes, he was allowed here' with one of the door guards (the other one took mercy on him), he went up to Ignis' apartment, which was unlocked, because Ignis always left it unlocked when he expected Prompto to be over. Yep, Prompto thought as he pulled off his boots and sat them by the door to dry with the umbrella. It was already after six-thirty, and Ignis wasn't here at all. Definitely no date night tonight.

Curious and nosy, Prompto looked into every room in the apartment. It was only in the rooms he didn't frequent when he was over that he found major signs that someone might be moving. His study was nearly empty. Linen closet, medicine cabinet, and cutlery drawers were almost empty as well, but only the things like that. Places Prompto normally wouldn't be opening. He really had been trying to hide it until the very last minute, though now that he knew, Ignis had apparently brought in some boxes that were shoved into corners but were still empty.

It wasn't really a good feeling knowing that you were invading your boyfriend's life so much that he felt he had to move to make more room for himself.

After snooping, he fell back onto Ignis' still-there couch with his phone. He thought about texting Ignis and telling him that he was here waiting, but he decided to let his being here be a surprise. Instead, he texted Gladio.

**Prompto, 6:52 p.m.** : _How's ur face feeling today?_

To his surprise, Gladio texted back almost immediately.

**Gladio, 6:53 p.m.** : _It mostly hurts like a bitch._

Prompto snorted at that. He supposed he should have known.

**Prompto, 6:53 p.m.** :_ I bet. How r u tho? Ok?  
_**Gladio, 6:54 p.m.** : _Not bad. Lucid, anyway, not loopy._

Prompto thought that maybe Gladio would let the conversation die there. Prompto was willing to. He'd done his due diligence in checking in, and Gladio was likely tired to talking to everyone about his face and the incident and probably just wanted to be alone by this point. Prompto knew he would, if he were in Gladio's shoes, yet not even a minute later he got another text.

**Gladio, 6:54 p.m.** : _Speaking of loopy, about that question I asked you. I know I was high on pain killers, but it was still inappropriate and I'm sorry._

. . . ah. Prompto hadn't been sure Gladio if would remember that when he'd come down from the drugs. Just recalling it made heat flood his system, and he covered his face with his hands with phone still in them.

_"Chicks totally dig scars!" - "Do you?"_ The words invaded his brain for probably the thousandth time since they'd actually been spoken. He'd eventually said yes, he did, not that it really mattered, but the truth was he wouldn't care for it on Ignis really. Ignis' face was meant to be exactly as it was. On Gladio though, it'd look . . . good. He would like it. Gladio was, as all his friends were, honestly, unfairly attractive. (It came with being nobility, and royalty, and just generally high-ness he'd decided long ago.) Among the three of his friends, though, it was Gladio who knew it. Gladio knew girls wanted him. After all, he had a new one practically every week. Why the fuck had he needed to ask Prompto if he thought they were attractive? The last person on the planet Gladio would care about sober?

At least Ignis hadn't totally freaked out.

**Prompto, 6:57 p.m.** : _It's cool. U were high. We all say stupid shit when we r high, right?_  
**Gladio, 6:58 p.m.** : _Yeah, thanks for understanding._

Prompto let the conversation drop there. Any more than that would just delve more into the realm of awkward, and Prompto really didn't want to go there. He pulled up King's Knight on his phone instead and just let his mind wander aimlessly as he played it for a little while. Then the door opened. Ignis was back.

The phone was instantly turned off and was being shoved into his pocket just as Ignis' voice reached his ears. "Prompto?"

"It's me!" He called back, knowing that Ignis didn't really need an answer.Those were definitely his shoes by the door. He got up anyway. Was it just him or was he hearing a lot of bags rustling? Had Ignis gone shopping? That seemed . . . odd.

"I wasn't expecting you to come after my text."

"Yeah, but you said use your discretion, which I did," he began as he stuck his head around the corner to the doorway. "And--oh-em-gee you're soaking wet!" He was! His hair, which would have definitely been styled for work, was hanging down in his face, his glasses dripping from the corners, his suit jacket was half off, draped over one arm, but it too dripped. In fact, Prompto was fairly sure that if he stood in one spot for more than a minute, then there would start to be a puddle.

"I. Ah. Yes. I'm quite drenched."

"Did you get stuck in the rain?!"

" . . . one might say that, yes." It was precisely at this point that Prompto realized Ignis had an expression on his face that he normally only saw on Noctis. The one where a child had gotten caught doing something they weren't supposed to. It was weird to see it on Ignis, his eyes cast downward in shame, yet wide, and trying to give nothing away.

"What did you do?"

"It's not really anything I did. It's more what I found." He was talking fast. Definitely caught red handed. "I was--"

"Mew!" The sound came from underneath his jacket.

" . . . I was hoping to surprise you."

Consider himself surprised. "Did I hear a kitty?" Ignis chuckled, apparently resigned to his fate, and pulled the jacket off his arm. Underneath was the smallest kitten Prompto thought he'd ever seen. It was white with little colored spots on its side. "Oh! It's a baby!" His fingers found reaching out for it irresistible, and Ignis didn't even try to stop him from lifting it into his arms. It was so tiny and soft. It, of everything else in Ignis' vicinity, was dry and warm. Immediately upon being put in the crook of his elbow, its little eyes closed and it began to purr. Prompto fucking melted right there.

"I found her under my car when I left work. Of course, I chose to park close to the open side of the parking deck today, so it was wet, and cold, and . . . I couldn't very well leave her there, now could I?"

"No," Prompto's voice warbled.

"That was about the time I texted you, honestly. She was very frightened at first, and it took me far longer than intended to coax her out from under my car. By that time it was six, and there aren't any shelters open after six, and . . . well. I thought my darling might enjoy a kitten, so I went and got all the appropriate kitten things." It was only then that Prompto noticed that the bags he'd heard earlier were filled with litter, food, toys, and a litter box. All the things a starter cat owner would need.

"You're gonna keep her?!"

"I thought we." Ignis stopped himself, cleared his throat, and began again. "There'll be more space in my new apartment. Plenty of room for a cat. She seems to have a sweet temperament. I thought it might be a good change, for . . . me, to keep the cat."

"Yeah," Prompto whispered, digging a single finger into soft belly fluff. The kitten gave a small squeak, but gave no further complaint. "She's a sweetie." Of course, if you asked Prompto, all animals were sweeties. Of course they were. They were animals. Animals were innocent and sweet. Except when they were being little shits, but otherwise innocent and sweet.

"If you don't mind, I am going to go take a shower before the chill truly sets in. Do you think you'll be all right?"

"Yep. Do you want me to order dinner?"

"I could--"

"Nope. No cooking." Prompto wasn't sure he had enough remaining cutlery anyway.

" . . . fine. Whatever you would like, then."

Naturally, with blanket permission like that, Prompto ordered pizza for delivery and then began to set up the cat things. He wasn't really sure where Ignis would want the things, especially with him moving, but he put the litter box in a corner of the living room and the food and water bowls in the kitchen. The kitten was interested in none of it, and by the time Ignis emerged from the shower already in bed clothes, Prompto was back on the couch, a sleeping kitten in his lap. "I have been blessed," he whispered up at his boyfriend, as though anything louder than a whisper would wake the kitten.

Ignis chuckled as he sat down, so close that their sides were touching. One long arm snaked around his shoulder and pulled just that much closer. Lips pressed against his forehead before he whispered "So have I" into his ear.

Well. Prompto didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing at all.


	4. Gladiolus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, sorry for the long delay between chapters. The last couple months have been rough. If you enjoyed the chapter, please consider leaving me some validation on your way out. <3 <3 <3

It wasn’t unusual for Gladio and Ignis to take lunch together, even if half the time it was Gladio lounging on the love seat in Ignis’ office while Ignis pretended to be irritated that his friend had made him put the paperwork aside for fifteen minutes. Occasionally, Gladio would be the one late to their near daily routine, finding Ignis waiting when he’d finally arrived, brow quirked in that old familiar expression of reproach. On one memorable occasion, Ignis had shown up at the training hall half an hour past time, detouring to Gladio’s own scarcely used office with a faint expression of mild vexation and homemade goods in hand. He’d never failed to take the opportunity to tease Gladio for it, either, in his own mild way.

It still felt like routine, though these days, location and circumstances had changed somewhat. After all, eating take out while sitting on the floor of Ignis Scientia’s soon-to-be-former apartment was a far cry from clearing a space in the advisor’s office, though Ignis himself seemed every bit as distracted as he would after being pulled away from his usual daily grind. Which was a little weird, come to think of it, given the circumstances. He had taken a few days off to move and had seemed more than confident that, between his uncle and that little flunkie that followed him around, they had his usual work load covered. As usual, Ignis was also organized to an extreme, needing more help lifting than actually getting things organized and in order. There had been some doubt as to whether Gladio himself was going to be able to assist as planned, considering his still-healing injury, but in the end, he’d been given the okay so long as he didn’t push it too hard. At whatever point that was supposed to be.

But instead of being at ease as he’d claimed he would be, the sandy-haired man was distracted. Broody, even. And it was either amusing or annoying, Gladio wasn’t even sure which. And a little cute, to be honest, but then, Gladio had been finding a lot about the other man cute, lately. Including that little wrinkle he got between his eyebrows when he was thinking way too hard.

“Hey.” Gladio poked his friend’s shoulder with his chopsticks as they settled in to eat, grinning a little at the way the man paused from opening a styrofoam container to give him a sharp look. “What’s crawled up your ass and died?”

“Charming.” Though the advisor’s tone was biting, Gladio wasn’t going to let him off that easy. Something was clearly on his mind. And it was his heartfelt duty as his friend to needle it out of him before he stewed himself into an all-nighter. Because even the gods couldn’t help them if Ignis picked up the sleeping schedule he’d had when he was sixteen again.

Gladio pinched a mouthful of noodles with his chopsticks, slurping them up with abandon and grinning at little at the blatant expression of distaste directed at him. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then spoke again. “You and blondie get in a fight?”

“Absolutely not.” The words were calmly spoken, but there a pinched look to his expression that seemed to say otherwise.

“Shit, really? What’d you do?”

“Am I hallucinating?” Ignis asked with deceptive mildness, stabbing his plastic fork into his chicken stir fry with a little too much fervor. “I’m quite certain I denied the allegation.”

“Your mouth says no, but your face says yes.”

“I did not – “ Stab stab. “ – get in an argument with Prompto.” He tucked a forkful of food into his mouth, eyes narrowing in a pointed glare as he chewed. Gladio would never say it aloud – particularly when it was directed at him – but Ignis was actually. . . pretty cute when he was irritated. As long as was just irritated enough to make that face and not enough to stab him with his fork, anyway.

“Hmm.” Maybe it was just that it was fun seeing Ignis emote. He was just so good at controlling his emotions sometimes. It was nice he let himself relax enough to look irritated when they were alone.

“His parents.” Ah. “Will be home for Prompto’s birthday. And they will be joining us for dinner.” Yep, that would do it. Honestly, he was a little tempted to invite himself now, maybe bring Princess along for good measure. After all, it had been how many years? And still? No one had met his parents? And it wasn’t like they’d clamored to show up with the blond was literally dying, either. Not to mention the unwelcome realization, when that had been going down, that they’d left the boy alone to basically raise himself, as far as they could tell. Yeah. He could understand why Ignis was so. . . distressed.

“I guess you probably shouldn’t stab them or anything,” he teased, giving his noodles a stir while he talked. That was the joke, right? That anytime something annoyed Ignis, he stabbed it, despite not actually having ever stabbed someone who was irritating him. . . as far as Gladio knew, anyway. If he had, he was too good to get caught at it, probably.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Ignis managed not to smile, but Gladio didn’t miss the slight crinkle around his eyes, the way his lips pressed together in barely contained amusement. Cute. Really, really cute. “I cannot simply eviscerate everyone I don’t like.”

But then he looked thoughtful, and that. That was worrying. Terrifying, even, if he didn’t know better.

“Do you think five courses is too many?”

Gladio laughed. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t that. And yet. That was so Iggy. If he couldn’t literally stab them, he supposed he’d go for it in the metaphorical sense.

“Yeah, probably?” Let’s be real. Five courses were definitely too many. There was shaming your future in-laws and then there was putting them in the ground. And five courses was more the latter than the former. “Can’t you do a regular meal and just make it really good?” That ought to be more than enough, especially with the way Ignis cooked. Normal people didn’t cook like that. “Make Prom’s favourites or something?” Would his parents even know his favourites? Hell if Gladio knew. He wasn’t feeling optimistic.

“Hmmmm.” He could see that Ignis was taking his comments to heart. Which, honestly, was a good thing. Not that Gladio didn’t believe the blond’s parents deserved to be thoroughly shamed, but Prom himself would be embarrassed if his boyfriend went too overboard. Just Ignis being the normal level of extra would be better. And more than enough, he was pretty sure.

“A fine suggestion,” the brunet said finally, and Gladio all but breathed a sigh of relief. “It would be a simple enough matter to acquire the ingredients to – “

_Brrrzzzzt. Brrrzzzzt. Brrrrzzzzt._

Gladio knew perfectly well Ignis couldn’t turn his phone off completely, but he still wouldn’t have wanted to have been the person on the other side of that phone call. Not with the way Iggy was looking at his phone then. After all, there were only really two options, weren’t there? Incompetence or an emergency. And it couldn’t be the latter, or Gladio’s phone would be blowing up, too. Ignis answered the phone calmly enough, at least if you didn’t know Ignis well enough to know that overly pleasant tone was the advisor going into a conversation with his hackles already raised.

You didn’t have to know Ignis well to know the way his voice went cold less than ten seconds into the conversation meant trouble. Gladio did his best to mind his own business and focus on his food, mostly because he really didn’t want to be involved when Ignis was using that tone, but he caught enough of the conversation to know. . . well, someone was going to get slaughtered. Metaphorically, if not literally. Ignis was using his scary voice. And not even the hot one.

“. . . no, I believe I _will_ have to handle this myself. I really must thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Gladio winced – Ignis hated having to thank people. Thanking was too close to owing and owing favours could be dangerous in this crowd. If it was just the flunkie – Lance or whatever his name was – it was probably fine, but. . .

“No need to explain,” he commented mildly as Ignis hung up. “Someone fucked up and you gotta go fix it, right?” That was best case scenario, wasn’t it? That it was something fixable? Something that could be solved easily enough with a few hours of Ignis’ attention? Surely, if they were bothering to call him on his day off. Or maybe they just needed damage control. “I’ll hold down the fort while you go kick some ass.”

“Come now.” Ignis’ expression softened a little in a frown, as strange as that was, and he popped his take out closed and set it aside. “I hardly expect you to continue in my absence.”

Gladio just shrugged. He had nothing else to do with his day. This was his plan, here, helping move shit. Besides. “Blondie’s gonna be here soon, right? Wouldn’t want him to show up to an empty apartment.” Never mind that Ignis could just text him to let him know what’s up. An excuse was an excuse. “We’ll go hang out downstairs if it bothers you that much.” They would definitely not go hang out downstairs, but Ignis didn’t need to know that. He wouldn’t complain, he was sure, if he came back and the work was all done. Or as done as it could be, without the direction of Ignis himself.

Ignis paused, keys in hand and eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If you’re sure.”

“I’ll be fine.” Gladio gave a big grin, knowing full well it was an expression that. . . didn’t exactly make him look trustworthy. At all. In the slightest. “Trust me.”

“Hmmm.” Ignis did not look, to say the least, convinced, but he clearly knew Gladio was doing it on purpose. They’d known each other long enough. The brunet fixed him with a particular sort of look, and Gladio reciprocated with an expression so innocent as to be anything but. The advisor just gave an exasperated sigh. He promised to text when he was on his way back, and just like that, he was gone. Perfect. Gladio was going to get so much shit done, Iggy wasn’t even going to know what hit him. Go down and hang out with Noctis while Ignis was off dealing with bureaucrats? Yeah, right. He didn’t really believe that was going to happen, did he? Surely not. After all, Ignis only had a limited amount of time off, and a dinner to over-prepare for, besides. Ignis didn’t actually need to be here for him to move stuff. These guns were stronger than that.

Thanks to the interference of a certain demanding purr-monster, Gladio only managed a few trips before Prompto arrived, bright-eyed and grinning and ready to be put to work. He glanced around, smile fading slightly with confusion. “Where’s Iggy?”

“Just missed him.” Gladio gave a small shrug, though he wouldn’t leave it at that, of course. “Call from the Citadel, something he had to go handle.” He gave a lecherous grin, mischief glinting in his eyes. “Probably going to be reaaaaal cranky when he gets back, so we’ll have to count on you to kiss it all better.”

“GLADIOOOOOO!” The blond bounced around him, jabbing him with his fists anywhere he could reach while Gladio lightly danced away, making kissy noises all the while. Prom was so fun to tease. And so cute. The way his eyes were squished almost shut by his cheeks when he laughed. The pop of freckles against his flushed skin. Gods.

But eventually, their laughter died down and Gladio hooked an arm around the smaller man, ruffling his hair fondly despite his squawking protests.

“I told Ignis we’d go hang out with Noct while he was gone, but how about we see if we can get all of Iggy’s shit moved before he gets back?” He finally released the blond as he spoke, allowing the younger man to dart of his reach, hands immediately coming up to work at his disheveled hair. They could still go do that, though, if Prom was uncomfortable with them taking the initiative behind his boyfriend’s back. Somehow, he didn’t think that was going to be a problem, though. He wasn’t exactly the only one who thought Ignis worked too hard.

The blond pouted for a moment – “Why you gotta mess with the hair, dude?” – but then gave a mischievous grin. “I’ll give you 200 yen to say it like that to Iggy’s face.” He raised his hands up and made the adorable air quotes. " "Iggy's shit "."

“Hell no.” Gladio didn’t even need to think about that. And it wasn’t so much how unamused Ignis would be to hear his carefully cultivated collection referred to as shit. He was really not interested in a two hour lecture about the value of his 200 year old copy of Salvador’s Parables. Gladio really didn’t get his interest in that guy at all.

Prompto cackled. There really was no other word for it. He was enjoying that reaction way too much. He landed another sharp punch on Gladio’s arm, bobbing his head in a quick nod. “Sure, big guy. Let’s do this.”

But if Gladio was expecting Prompto to stay as pumped about the plan as he was, then he was setting himself up for disappointment. It wasn’t that the blond lacked enthusiasm. He kept up the pace, even when he whined about the weight when they got to Ignis’ unnecessarily large book collection. But he was too quiet. Something was bugging him, and Gladio was pretty sure it was going to be up to him to find out what. After all, Prom would hold that shit in forever if you left him to his own devices.

About the fifth time they stopped to cuddle Iggy’s new pet, Gladio decided he just had to go for it. He wasn’t great at being subtle or delicate about it like Iggy was, but Blondie clearly wasn’t going to bring it up on his own.

“Hey.” It was kind of weird that Iggy had gotten a pet, to be honest, but seeing that kitten crawl into the blond's lap and make itself comfortable . . . yeah, Gladio _really_ got it. “What’s eating you? Normally you’re ten miles a minute, but . . . “ He shrugged. If he pushed too hard, he wasn’t getting shit out of him. “ . . . you’ve been quiet.”

“Oh! Uh. . . “ The blond was suddenly extra interested in the kitten in his lap, pale hand stroking its soft, tiny body. “I mean. It’s no big deal . . . “ Yeah fucking right. “Just . . . “

The blond fell silent, gnawing on his lip as he rubbed his fingers through the kitten’s belly fur. That thing really needed a name. Knowing Ignis, is was either going to be something a toddler would pick like Socks or Fluffy or something pretentious as hell. Sir Rutherford the Fifth or some crap. Gods.

“Hey, it’s just me.” He reached out to nudge an adorably freckled shoulder, letting his smile sharpen when the blond finally looked up. “You and Iggy get into a fight or somethin’?”

“No!” Gladio chuckled at the immediate denial. One was as bad as the other, really. “But. . . “ He waited. Prompto was going to spit it out or he wasn’t. This wasn’t the moment to push. Prompto took a deep breath, then spoke all at once.

“So my parents are going to be here for my birthday.” Ah, of course that was what this was about. Big surprise. “And like. Of course Iggy already had something planned, and he acted like he was perfectly happy to have them join us, but there was this look like . . .” The blond crinkled up his nose in a fierce look of concentration as he tried to come up with the right word.

“Them’s fighting words?” Gladio suggested, then laughed, loud and booming, at the blond’s enthusiastic agreement. Yeah, he knew that look well. That was a look the brunet got when he was deeply insulted, but too deeply mired in civility to say so directly. That was a look that implied he was already planning on doing something about it later. In secret. And you would never be able to prove it was him.

“So obviously he isn’t really happy to have them join us for dinner! Obviously he doesn’t actually want to meet them.” The blond was really working himself up, wasn’t he? Man, once it started to come out, it really _all_ just spilled on out. “Do you think he’s mad they ruined his plans? Or maybe he’s just not ready to meet them now . . . if ever, I mean.” He didn’t say it aloud, but Gladio could practically see him thinking it: maybe Ignis didn’t want to meet his parents, because maybe Ignis just wasn’t that serious about him. And that was bullshit. He was going to take Iggy’s dumb face and bounce it off a wall. Metaphorically. Somehow.

“Hey, no.” He scooted closer, gave the blond’s shoulder another nudge before reaching out to carefully scratch the kitten’s tiny head. The little beast was really hamming it up at the attention. “You know Ig’s crazy about you, right?” The blond gave a little shrug, averting his gaze and blinking back tears from suddenly wet eyes. “He is so stupid for you, okay? There’s no question about that.” Again, the blond shrugged, and Gladio frowned. “Hey.” He waited, and eventually Prompto looked up. “Your parents are good people right?” Prompto nodded quickly. Personally, Gladio had his doubts, but it wasn’t his approval Prompto was looking for. “Then Iggy will see that.”

Either that, or he’d see that Prompto’s parents were every bit as awful as they were afraid of . . . and immediately decide to destroy them, probably. That would be . . . unfortunate. More realistic, though, as far as expectations went.

“Yeah. . .” Prom didn’t sound entirely convinced, either, to be honest, but he wiped his face, seemed to visibly perk up as though he were purposely putting forth the effort. He probably was. He lifted the kitten and pressed several kisses on its forehead – Gods, Prom was so cute, was so sixdamn cute and Gladio was so fucking boned – before setting it lightly on its feet nearby. “Okay!”

“Hey, we’ve only got a couple things left to carry up, right?” Gladio pushed himself to his feet. Iggy had been gone an awfully long time. Still, if it was serious, someone would have called him. Gladio was guessing this was a case of massive incompetence. Someone wasn’t going to die so much as wish they would. Ignis was definitely not going to go easy on someone that dragged him in on one of his rare days off. Especially if it was avoidable. Ah, well. Not his problem. Or at least not his problem until Iggy got home and he had to face the aftermath. “Wanna see how much of his shit we can get unpacked, too?”

The blond’s expression brightened in a shit-eating grin. They both knew better. They really did. Ignis hated people messing with this stuff. But eh. He’d forgive them. Probably. Unless they really messed up where everything went. Then he’d just run. Prom had a better chance without him there, anyway.

“Hell yeah!” Prompto exclaimed, bouncing slightly on his heels. “Let’s do it!”

When Ignis got back, his head was going to explode. Whether that was going to be in a good way or a bad one, they’d just have to wait to find out.


	5. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday Everyone! <333
> 
> Please enjoy this update. o u o

Just because it was his birthday didn't mean that Prompto wasn't going on a run.

For one thing, he'd skipped out on it a couple days in the last couple of weeks and really just skipping it because it was his birthday wasn't an acceptable reason. He had an outward image to maintain after all, and that image included not gaining weight. He needed to go for his runs. That meant that in the mostly dark he was opening his door to go for his run. He was lucky that it wasn't raining or too cold, good running weather. This was fine. Go for a run, take a shower, maybe even go back to bed if his parents would let him. Totally fine. Running was something he did almost every day. A nice expected start to his day.

What Prompto did not expect to start his day was running into Gladio nearly as soon as he was out the door. "Hey there, Big Guy." The surprise and confusion bled through in his tone, he knew. He was bad at not emoting. It was terrible. "I didn't expect to see you running around yet." Not after that knife to the face, anyway. Even in the dim lighting, Prompto could see the butterfly bandages that held it together on both sides. They probably weren't necessary anymore. Probably. They definitely highlighted the scar that was healing its way onto his face though. Chicks were gonna dig it. It managed to be right in the middle of that eye and everything. Yeah. Gladio was going to get more hookups, not less.

. . . maybe he shouldn't be thinking about his friend getting hookups.

For his part Gladio laughed, which was always a nice sound when he meant it. Deep and vibrating. It wasn't the childish thing that he and Noct did when they laughed at something inappropriate or the chuckle that sometimes escaped from Ignis. Gladio's laugh pierced you, whether you wanted it to or not. "First day back. Gonna do some training later too."

"Really? That's great!"

"Yeah, gonna be nice to get back to it. Weird how you miss things when you suddenly can't have them."

"I bet." As a kid, winter break from school had never really seemed long enough, but the closer he'd gotten to graduation, the more bored he'd become by the end of it. Had he liked school? Not really. He'd liked being around Noctis more than anything, but he'd missed having something to do. He suspected that was probably how Gladio had felt, except on a fast track to boredom town.

"Besides, I couldn't just not give you your birthday gift."

"Oh." It was suddenly a good thing that it was dark out, because Prompto could definitely feel his face flooding with heat. "You didn't have to get me anything!"

"Of course I did. Here." The package was pulled out of a hoodie pocket, and while it wasn't really small for having been in a pocket, it also wasn't _huge_. He considered the option of trying to figure it out what it was before he opened it, but in the end he gave it up without actually crinkling the package and opened it up. It was a good thing. He would have never guessed anyway.

They were cuffs. Four of them were more his usual style, the soft sweatband, but they all had kiddish designs on them. Even in the dimness he could make out tonberries, moogles, cactuars, and chocobos. "Cute." The other two were...fancier. One of them was more like a gathering of studded leather bracelets than a cuff, but the other one made up for it. It was black, leather, and long enough to take up most of his forearm. It seemed fancy. Suspiciously fancy.

"Do you like them?"

"Yeah!" He said it because it was true. They were nice, even the soft ones. But. "Why these?"

"Oh, just that Iggy once mentioned that you never take yours off. Not even to sleep."

That . . . wasn't really a good answer. He wasn't sure he liked where this conversation was going. "Did . . . he say anything else about it?"

"Nah, just that. Wasn't a judgey thing, if you're worried. Just. This is a fact."

Prompto nodded. "Okay." He was definitely still worried about it, but he was going to say okay anyway. Not saying okay was only going to lead to more talking, more suspicion.

"Anyway, I've only ever seen you wear two or three different bands, so I figured I'd get you some more. Nice soft ones for sleeping. Some leather for everyday or fancy wear."

"Dude, thanks, but it's not like I'm going anywhere fancy soon."

"No?" Prompto shook his head. "Might want to rethink that. Gala season's coming up, and Iggy's gonna want to show you off."

Prompto snorted. He couldn't help it. "There's nothing to show off." Even pushing physical appearance aside, there was nothing to show off. Oh look, here's my boyfriend of less than a year of no social standing and no lifetime achievements. Adore him. Sure. Yeah. No.

"Don't say that to him. He's been dreaming of dancing with you. He hasn't said it, but any time the plans come up in meetings, he gets this wistful look in his eye. I've seen it. It's as sweet as sugar. Sweeter even."

"Shut up." Prompto shoved at Gladio's shoulder, which of course moved Gladio exactly zero percent. Guy was too solid. "I can't even dance."

"No problem. Have Iggy teach you. Or Noct. Or me. We'll teach you. Do it for Iggy. He's never had anything to look forward to at those things. Noct too, would be thrilled to have you there, and it's not like I'd be upset. Nice fresh face around the nobles."

"Maybe. I'll think about it." To be perfectly honest, even if dancing were his only problem, he wasn't sure he could be taught. Graceful was not exactly the best description of what he was. Still, it wasn't even the only problem. What would he wear? Where were his manners? The possibilities to fuck up were literally endless. "I should go put these inside."

"Yeah, go ahead. I'll wait."

Prompto bit his lip, waffling between two options and deciding which one was the better one. "Do you wanna come in and meet my parents?"

"Are they up?"

"Yep! Extreme morning people. No coffee required."

Gladio thought about it. Prompto could tell he thought about it hard. In the end, though, he shook his head. "I think Iggy would kill me if I met them first."

"Ah. A fair response. They're gonna be here for a couple days though, so . . . ?"

"Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day." That would be nice. Then everyone except for Noctis would have at least met them. Prompto wasn't sure his parents were ready to meet the prince, though. They knew who Noctis was, and they knew who he was dating, but it was a little different, knowing rather than seeing it with your own eyes.

"I'll look forward to it." Without waiting, he ran back up the stairs and through the front door. He placed the package of cuffs on the table. He could feel his mother's eyes boring into him from the kitchen doorway, and he grinned up at her. "Gifts from Gladio."

"Did you invite him in?"

"I did! He said not today. Maybe tomorrow."

He saw his mother nodding in his peripheral as he made his way back out the door. Gladio smiled, and then they went for a run. Together. No pressure, just running and quiet companionship. It was an excellent start to his birthday, and he found himself grinning when he got home and through the pancakes his father made for breakfast and the rest of the day, which he spent wedged between his mom and dad, snapping photographs of every animal in the Insomnia zoo. He was pretty sure he filled a whole memory card. How long had it been since he'd been to the zoo? Perhaps since he'd been a child.

At five o'clock they went home and his parents changed into clothes that Prompto perhaps wouldn't call fancy, not to someone like Ignis, but nicer than the t-shirts and old jeans they'd spent most of the day in. Prompto changed, too, though not much. Ignis knew him too well to think he was anything but a slob at this point. Over his wrist he clasped the less fancy of the leather cuffs Gladio had gifted him, and when he looked in the mirror, he didn't completely hate it. The cuff definitely added something sort of stylishness to his lazy ass taste in clothes.

"You ready?" His mother asked, looking completely out of place in a skirt that Prompto was pretty sure he'd only ever seen her wear once.

"As ever."

His parents drove a sturdy if old little bug that wasn't so very out of place in the area they lived in, but the closer they got to Ignis and Noctis' apartment building, the more Prompto sunk down in his seat. Every driver in a mile radius was probably giving their car the side eye. Even more side eyes would be coming in as they got to the parking deck of the building.

Even as they parked, Prompto felt like the other empty cars were judging them, but then his phone buzzed, and he found himself distracted.

**Noctis, 5:55 p.m.** : _Side Door._

It said nothing else, but Prompto got the message. Instead of walking all the way out to the front and getting access from the guards, they walked in the opposite direction to the door that residents went through. Noctis was there waiting, phone up in front of his face, completely oblivious to the world. Prompto knocked on the glass, and the prince of the realm startled like a cat, nearly dropping his phone before managing to catch it.

Their eyes met, and Prompto's heart fluttered in his chest at the smile that grew over Noctis' face. "There you are," he heard muffled through the glass. "Took you long enough." The click of the door unlocking echoed through the deck, but the empty feeling that sound caused was filled by Noctis arms wrapping around him. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

As he pulled back, Prompto saw Noctis' eyes slide over to his parents, and for a second, he thought he saw a confrontation brewing there. Instead Noctis offered them a strained smile, one he'd seen on Noctis' face often when faced with new people. "Nice to finally meet you."

His mother's voice was the one that spoke. "And you as well, Prince Noctis."

"Yeah. Thanks." Noctis rubbed the back of his head. Shyly. Yep. That was their Noctis. Shier than any future king probably should be. "Specs is waiting. You'll get your gift in a couple days, okay?"

"You didn't have to get me anything, Noct."

"Too bad. Did. Go on."

Noctis leaned against the door, watching them as they came inside and started toward the stairs. "You guys can take the elevator if you want." Noctis was heading that way, but he was sure he couldn't harass them too much in a short elevator ride . . . right?

His mother laughed at him, as she usually did when he suggested that they take the elevator and he the stairs. "We've got feet." That was the end of that. At least he could say he'd tried. Getting up to Ignis' apartment was a little odd because he had to keep telling himself to go up one more floor than he normally would. Ignis didn't live on that floor anymore. He lived one floor up. One more flight of stairs. It was on this flight of stairs that the nerves really started to set in, and Prompto seriously considered turning tail and going back. He didn't, though. He forced himself the whole way through, and when the door to Ignis' new apartment opened, his boyfriend was wearing a host's smile.

For the first thirty seconds everything went fine. They all took off their shoes while Ignis waited patiently. There were no coats to take, so that bit was skipped, and then, for the first time, really, they were all face to face. To Prompto, there seemed to be a moment of awkward silence before -- "Is this your boyfriend, Prom?"

"Y-Yeah. This is Iggy - Ignis."

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing!"

"Mom!" Prompto could feel his face heating up before the word was even out of his mouth. He knew she was supposed to hear the embarrassment in his voice and stop doing that, but the reality was that it was only going to drive her more forward. "Stop!"

She didn't stop. In fact, to his horror, she was moving past him, and any second now he knew there would be some sort of physical contact. "You didn't say how handsome he was! Or how tall, well dressed, and in shape he is!"

"Mo~om!" He groaned. "You've seen pictures!"

"And absolutely none of them did him justice." She patted Ignis on the arm, and it was precisely at that moment that Prompto knew this dinner was definitely going to kill him. "How ever did a man like you end up with my son?" Her hand was reaching up for his face, and nope. Nope. Can't let this go on.

"Okay, Mom, let's not totally cross every boundary here." He grabbed for her wrist and tugged it down, knowing his face was the most brilliant shade of red to ever exist. "Iggy's been working really hard on dinner, I'm sure. Why don't we go sit?"

"Ah. Yes. The dining room it just beyond here. There are cards with your names on them for your setting." His mother thankfully let it go, and she hooked her arm around his father's as they made their way around to the dining room. Prompto had assumed his uncles were already here, and judging by the joyful chatter he heard a second later, he'd been right.

He was pulled away from trying to hear precisely what they were saying by a hand taking his own and pulling it upward. Prompto's eyes flicked back to Ignis just in time to watch him kiss the back of his hand. Like this was a fairy tale, and he was the princess. He swooned a little, just a little. He also noticed as he pulled back, that Ignis' face was red too. "Happy birthday, Darling."

"Th-Thanks." He swallowed. "I'm sorry about Mom. She's . . . always like that really."

"Nonsense, no harm done." Well, if they weren't mentioning the fact that Prompto had definitely never seen Ignis' face look quite so red, sure, no harm done. Sure. "I've never seen this one before."

Prompto's eyes were dragged down to his cuff, suddenly keenly aware that Ignis' thumb was running back and forth over it, though he could not actually feel the motion. "Oh, uh, that's a gift from Gladio. Just got it this morning."

"Hm," Ignis hummed as he turned his wrist back and forth. "It seems Gladio's been paying more attention than I thought he was."

"Dude, I think Gladio just likes leather." Half of what he owned seemed to be leather. He probably just assumed that everyone liked leather.

That earned him a chuckle. "Perhaps so. Still, it's a nice gift."

"Yeah, it was."

"Has Noctis given you his gift yet?"

"No, but he says he'll give it over in a couple days."

Ignis sighed. "He probably needs time to wrap it." That was a task they both knew would probably fall to Ignis. Prompto would know when he got it. It was all about the edges. Crumpled edges? Noctis. Perfect edges? Ignis. "Well, go on. I have your place marked out, too. First course will be out momentarily." A kiss was pressed to his cheek, and Prompto let himself drift off happily enough, knowing his mother would probably calm down a little now that there were other people as an audience.

. . . of course, one of those people was Ventus. Maybe not a great idea. Oh well, nothing to help that now. He came around the corner to find the leaf table Ignis kept covered in a table cloth and the place-settings fancy, but also simple. He also found that Ignis had sat his parents on one side, his uncles on the other, and the two heads clear. That meant he was meant to sit at the head of the table, one way or the other.

"It's this one, Prompto," Ventus said, patting the seat to his left as though he could hear his strife. "And don't give us that look. It's your birthday. Of course, you're head of table."

That simply left him no choice but to fall into his seat with an internal sigh and the small consolation that the chit chat going on wasn't in any way directed at him. In fact, it seemed almost cliché. Ventus was indeed deep in a conversation about Lestallum spices, and both his father and Tellus were silently listening. Only occasionally did one of them open their mouth to offer up a few words. Yep, these two would be a dangerous match to leave together for very long. Perhaps even dinner would be too long.

The conversation had just started to veer dangerously toward how long Tellus and Ventus had known Prompto when Ignis came out with plates of salad. Oh. Not just salad, Prompto's favorite salad. The one with ginger, tomato, and a cheese made from sheep's milk. Each plate had a small cup of what Prompto assumed to be dressing beside it. When Ignis sat his plate in front of him, Prompto noticed that he'd added carrots to the ingredients this time. He'd also carved the carrots into flowers. Of course he had. Ignis was being extra. Extra extra.

"This," his boyfriend said as he sat a small blue box with a gray bow on top of it beside his salad, "is your gift from me. Please do not open it until after dinner." Ignis tapped the box with one finger before pulling back and heading over to his own seat.

Ventus was chuckling. "What? What is it?"

"You'll see," Ventus said before picking up his fork.

Prompto glanced back down at the box. It was too big to be a ring box (thank the Six, Prompto wasn't sure what he'd do with that), but it wasn't big enough for anything else except for perhaps a pair of earrings. Prompto didn't have pierced ears.

"Darling. Please eat."

"R-right!" Prompto picked up his fork quickly. The box could be opened later. Dinner now.

The salad was, of course, amazing, as though Ignis could mess up anything, even something that didn't require actual heat to make. The carrots, though, so extra, but his mother had seemed impressed, and Prompto supposed that was the entire point. Impress his family. The family he hadn't even wanted to meet. Not that Ignis had to do anything more than breathe to do that. Ignis, of course, did everything perfectly.

After the salads were finished, Ignis whisked away the dishes with ease and refused any help whatsoever. Ventus and his mother thankfully were only given a couple minutes to get back into the topic of holiday practices before Ignis was returning with the next course. Course two was pie, Prompto could see that even from a distance, but it wasn't until it was sat down in front of him that he realized that it wasn't quite the same as the normal pie Ignis made. In the center of the pie was a perfectly cut pastry chocobo.

Prompto hid his face in his hands to keep himself from screaming from from mixture of joy and embarrassment. Beside him, his mother laughed, her hand patting gently against his elbow.

"No need for that, Prom! You've always loved chocobos." He had, but he had never expected to see a chocobo on top of a meat pie.

"Those were always his favorite thing as a kid, huh?" That was Ventus going down a dangerous road once again, and of course, his mother indulged him.

"Always. Chocobos and cameras. He hasn't changed much."

"Ignis was tonberries."

Even without looking at her face, he could feel his mother taking in this information with a terrible smile. "Is that so?"

"Oh, yes. His childhood room is still covered with them." Was it? Prompto had only been in that room once. It had been dark at the time, and to be honest, he hadn't really been looking. Was it covered in tonberries? He couldn't really imagine it. But then, he often had trouble imagining Ignis as a child at all. "When Ignis came to stay with us, we had to decorate his room with something, and all the stores had last minute was tonberries. Luckily, Iggy took to them instantly, and soon we were all drowning in facts about them."

"Uncle," Prompto heard Ignis chastise before Prompto finally lowered his own fingers.

"I speak only the truth." Ventus was grinning wickedly. "He had a plush that he carried around everywhere and everything. The whole deal: pajamas, shoes, books . . . if you can imagine it, Ignis probably had it in some sort of tonberry pattern."

"_Uncle_," Ignis chastised again. This time, Ventus quieted, though the grin lingered, as though he knew the damage had been done. "Why don't you break into your pie first, Prompto?"

Prompto didn't see why they needed to do this in an order, but he nodded dutifully. He picked up his fork and hesitated, not really wanting to break the crust and destroy the utterly adorable chocobo Ignis had probably painstakingly carved out. After a few seconds though he could feel everyone's stares on him, and he dug his spoon in, off to the side for now, at least prolonging the poor thing's existence. Prompto had expected meat to come spilling out the side, and for the scent of the mixture to fill the room. A scent sure wafted up, and it was familiar, but instead of what he'd expect, Prompto found that his pie was filled with "curry?"

"Oh," his mother exclaimed softly. "You do like curry, don't you?"

"Yeah." Prompto chuckled, feeling both shy and giddy inside. "And Iggy makes it the best. It's so spicy, Mom."

"I'm sure it's perfect."

It was. It was so perfect. He loved green curry soup, of course, but this was thicker, and the crust had absorbed some of those juices making it wonderful and great, and . . . well, in the end, though he had saved it until its very last, even the poor chocobo was eaten.

Once the last person was finished eating (it was his father, unsurprisingly to him. He'd never been able to keep up with them as far as spices went), Ignis collected the dishes and disappeared back into the kitchen. Ventus spoke again, but this time it was directly to Prompto. "Iggy may be plating it up, but I'll have you know I made the dessert."

"Did you?"

"I did. Consider it my birthday gift to you." Ventus paused. "And a reminder that Iggy learned everything he knows about cooking from me."

"What did you make?"

Ventus seemed to consider it, as though the dessert wasn't going to be out in just a couple of minutes. In the end, he shrugged his shoulders and answered the question. "He said you like spice, and he said he you don't like heavy desserts, so we have gingerbread and spiced pears."

"Sounds absolutely delightful," his mother put in, and delightful was exactly the right word for the plates that Ignis placed in front of each of them. Prompto hadn't really needed the reminder that Ventus was the real master, even if his usual sampling of Ventus' skills was limited to muffins. (He was always running off muffin calories these days, it seemed.) But it was clear that Ventus had put all his effort into making this even better than normal. Even though the pear was whole and peeled, that just added to the fanciness of its presentation. It seemed completely whimsical, and when everyone had a plate and Ignis sat down again, Prompto was able to taste it and say that it tasted whimsical too.

Their styles were similar, but there was something more decadent, perhaps more rich feeling, to Ventus' cooking. Perhaps it was age and experience. Or perhaps it was just a separation in styles that was happening as Ignis cooked on his own. No matter the case, what he ate was spiced, but not spicy, light but also rich, substantial but also melted on the tongue.

"How was it?" Ventus asked after his plate was empty.

"It was perfect. Thank you."

Ventus' smile was blinding, and by contrast the hand that reached out and patted his own was very gentle. "Happy Birthday."

Everyone echoed the sentiment.

Though this was also supposed to be a housewarming, no one lingered long after dinner. Prompto suspected Tellus and Ventus had arrived hours before he and his parents had, and Tellus had work to get back to in the morning. "He's getting old," Ventus teased even as they were putting on their shoes. "He needs his sleep." If Ignis seemed particularly sappy in saying goodbye to his family, Prompto wouldn't say anything about it - not even how sweet he thought it was.

His own parents were quick to make sure they didn't overstay their own welcome. Where his mother had taken the lead the whole visit, it was his father who initiated goodbye. "Your house is lovely, and your food is better. Thank you for having us over."

"It was a pleasure," Ignis said in his usual, polite manner. "When Prompto said you'd be in town - well, I couldn't just not meet you, now could I?"

"And it's _good_ to meet you," his mother added. "He gushes about you all the time. It's good to have a proper face and voice to the stories." His mother's smile turned toward Prompto a second later. "Should we head home?"

Ignis cleared his throat. "Actually, I was rather hoping Prompto might choose to stay here overnight." Eyes looked at him expectantly, and Prompto floundered.

"I mean, I could, if that's okay with you guys--"

"Oh, Prom." His mother was laughing at him, and he could feel the embarrassment creeping in before she even said it. "If I were twenty years younger, nothing would keep me out of his bed at night."

"_Mo~om. Please._"

Naturally, she laughed at him, but when she cupped his face and kissed his cheek, she was all motherly affection. "Good night, Prompto. We'll see you tomorrow, yes?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Give us a call," his father advised when he came in for a hug on their way out the door.

"I will. Promise."

"Happy birthday."

"We love you."

And then they were gone, and both he and Ignis were left staring at a closed door for what seemed like a second or two too long to not be awkward. Then Ignis sighed, and Prompto looked at him instead. "What is it?"

Prompto watched those eyes flit over to him for a second before Ignis actually spoke. "I'm sorry."

Of all the words that could have been said, those were perhaps the last words he'd expected. Ignis didn't apologize often. None of his friends did, really. He'd always sort of a assumed it was an upbringing sort of thing. Up here in the clouds you don't apologize unless you're forced to, or you truly deeply mean it, because others would probably take it as weakness. Prompto said sorry about practically everything, but Ignis . . . only once or twice when it wasn't sarcastic or when it wasn't something like a spilled dish.

"What for?" Trying to think of what it was was difficult. He couldn't think of anything that Ignis had done wrong. "That you didn't cook dessert?" A second more of thinking. "Did you lose all my clothes in the move?" He doubted that. Ignis would have made sure they were safe. "What?"

"None of that," Ignis assured him with a small smile that faded almost instantly. "It's about your parents. I was being . . . cruel."

"I . . . don't see that? You were nice to them, even when enduring mom's teasing."

"Perhaps so, but that wasn't the intention. I--" he faltered for a moment. "I made this meal for you, of course, but I'm sure you noticed I went out of my way to be extravagant about it. I wanted to show your parents how well I knew you, and how much they do not. I wanted them to see that I was taking what they'd thrown away. I truly had thought they'd thrown you away. We. All do."

"Iggy. My parents--"

"They love you."

"Yeah," Prompto worried at his lip for a moment. "I know what you think you see. You see an empty house, and you're not wrong. It's empty, and yeah, it's lonely sometimes, but my parents care."

"I saw that. I opened the door prepared to hate them with every fiber of my being, and then they were everything I didn't expect, and I see I was wrong. So I apologize."

"It's . . . okay." It wasn't as though Ignis was the first person to think his parents were jerks. He probably wouldn't be the last. "I mean, like I said, you're not wrong. They're gone. A lot, and I don't think they really knew what having a kid meant? But. It's not for lack of love. We're a family. Really. They want you to be a part of it too. Maybe."

"I think I might like that."

"Yeah?" Butterflies fluttered around in his stomach.

"Yes." Ignis closed the gap between them, leaning down to press a kiss the side of Prompto's head, a hand running gently up and down his arm. "Now, would you like a proper tour?" Ignis stepped away from him then, and Prompto gasped as he saw Ignis pick up the small box from the table. Among everything else, he'd actually forgotten about that! "You can open this at the end of it."

"But I want to open it now!"

Ignis laughed at him, and Prompto scrunched up his nose in defiance. "I promise you that it'll be better if you wait until the end of the tour."

"Better for who? You? Or me?"

Ignis didn't give him an answer, but when Ignis placed the small box in his hands he didn't open it.

The tour was a little enlightening. He'd been in here before, of course. He'd helped move everything, but he hadn't seen it all put together, and it looked quite different all put together. Ignis definitely wasn't wrong to say that this apartment was bigger. Everything about it seemed bigger. The kitchen had more space, the living room was wider, upon closer inspection even the dining room had enough space for a table that sat at least two more people than had been there. They then went toward the back rooms, and immediately walked past a closed door. Prompto paused. "Are we skipping this one?"

"That one's last," was all Ignis would say about it, and Prompto was simply left glancing at it between rooms.

The rooms became a little weird at that point. It was just like looking into Ignis' old apartment except everything was stretched out a little, and that left it all looking a little empty. Even his office, which Prompto was sure would soon be filled with work he'd brought home with him, seemed a little lonely and devoid of things. The bathroom too seemed a little wide and clinical. Not lived in. Of course, Prompto thought to himself, it felt that way because it hadn't been lived in yet. Soon. Ignis was going to be living here all the time, now, and soon the space would familiar and filled.

"I think that's it," Ignis said after his bedroom, and Prompto glared. "No?"

"No. The room with the closed door, and you know it, buddy."

Ignis grinned knowingly. "Yes, all right, go on."

Curiosity drove him forward faster than normal, but when he got to the door and put his hand on the doorknob, he looked back at his boyfriend, who only nodded. The door clicked open easily, and out popped a kitten. "Well, hello there, baby!" He scooped the kitten up into his arms. "It feels like you're already growing so big!"

"I nearly forgot I'd put her in there," Ignis chuckled as he approached. He put one finger out, and that one finger easily scritched her entire head. "She wanted to help me cook."

"I'm sorry, babe, but you're too small to stir." The kitten only purred louder, apparently all too pleased to be held once again. "Do you have a name yet?"

"I thought I might leave that task to you. I'm afraid I'll name her something entirely too serious."

"Really? You want me to?"

"Of course."

Joy erupted inside his chest. He got to name his boyfriend's kitten. A great honor. The biggest honor. "I'll make sure it's the best name."

"I have utter faith in your capability." Ignis reached out and pushed the door more ajar. "Shall we?"

"Yeah!" Kitten still in the crook of one arm, Prompto walked into the . . . completely empty room. He stopped short. Wide and open. Empty of anything at all. "I don't . . . get it?" Was this a joke? A joke room? But an empty room was more the sort of joke that Noctis or Gladio might pull, not Ignis. "Why is it totally empty?"

"It's not completely empty." When Prompto shot him a look, Ignis smiled. Was it just him, or was that smile sheepish? "Go look in the closet."

Prompto had to put his box in the other hand so that he had full use of one arm, but then he went to pull open the closet door. It was a little jerky, because it slid open much more easily than his door at home. "Clothes." I mean, Prompto supposed that made sense. It was a closet after all. Closets were where you kept clothes. "Wait." He thumbed through the hangers. "These are just my clothes." The ones he'd left at Ignis' place over the last few months. A few pairs of pants and shirts. "Yeah. Just mine."

"That's because this is your room, Darling."

Prompto blinked, the thoughts in his mind all jamming together and nothing coherent forming at all. "My what now?"

Ignis chuckled softly. "Don't you want to open your box now?"

"Sure." He sat the kitten down on the floor first, because it had started to struggle a little, but when he straightened up, he tugged at the little bow and then pulled off the lid. Inside, there wasn't any jewelry at all, but instead, a key. Prompto recognized it as the standard style key for the building. He'd seen it so many times in both Ignis and Noctis' hands. "Are you--Is this your way of asking me to move in with you?"

"That is precisely what it is. It was the whole purpose in moving up here, really. I wanted to make more room for you."

"Really?" He bowed his head down, eyes blinking rapidly as he looked at the kitten. Oh, Six, he was gonna cry. He could feel it. Any second now. Tears were gonna come pouring out.

"Yes, truly. Are . . . are you all right?"

Yep. Yep, here it was. The first tears were starting to form. "I thought you'd needed to move because I was taking up too much space."

"Oh, Darling." Hands touched his face. Fingers lightly curled under his chin and tugged it up. Prompto didn't resist the motion. His head moved upward and he was staring at Ignis' beautiful face. Perfect smiling lips formed more words. "I want you to take up space. I want you to take up so much space that I cannot tell where my life ends and yours begins."

A choked laugh escaped Prompto's lips. "Iggy, that's so cheesy."

"Hm. So it is." His thumb sniped at a tear that had managed to escape. "But it's also true. It's gotten so bad that I find I don't sleep well if you're not in bed. One might say I've found myself addicted."

"Well, how am I supposed to say no to that?" Not that he had been planning on saying no, anyway. Still, it was his right to tease a little, dammit!

Ignis chuckled, his hands rushed to move out of the way as Prompto reached up to press his hands against his eyes. "It . . . doesn't have to be all at once, and I certainly understand if you wish to keep some things at your parent's home for the time being, but--"

"Iggy. We'll figure it out."

Ignis sighed. It was a soft sound, and Prompto dared to say happy. "Yes."

"Together."

This sound was even happier, and Ignis placed his hands on Prompto's face again, this time pulling it even more upward. "Yes," he said just before their lips touched.

Though Ignis had clearly meant for the kiss to be brief and chaste, Prompto made sure it was anything but. His own hands reached up and pulled their faces back together the moment Ignis tried to pull back, and before long he had his back against the wall, their mouths practically glued together. It was only when he started tugging at Ignis' shirt buttons that their mouths parted again.

"I should really go do the dinner dishes," his boyfriend told him with breaths far too labored and a tone far too sexy for the actual words he was saying.

"No way," Prompto told him in return, his fingers managing to get one tiny button undone, revealing a small amount of skin. His own skin was desperate to see more. "It's my birthday. I get what I want, right?"

"Ah, I suppose you do." A hand caught one of his wrists as he tried to get a second button undone. Prompto wriggled his fingers in protest. "At least allow me to spoil the birthday boy?"

Prompto grinned. "I suppose I could be convinced." At that, Ignis pulled their faces back together once more, and Prompto groaned into the kiss, knowing that this was probably the best birthday he'd ever had.


	6. Gladiolus

Gladio was already waiting outside when Ignis pulled up, precisely on time as expected. A few quick steps and he was pulling the passenger door open, tucking himself into the passenger seat before he realized that he and the brunet were the only ones in the car. He shot the other man a questioning look, but before he could actually ask, Ignis was already answering the question.

“They are to be ready by the time we return,” he commented mildly, waiting for the larger man to put on his seatbelt before putting the car into gear. Though Gladio would be the designated driver that night, they were taking Ignis’ car, though the thought of anyone else driving gave Ignis “the shivers.” Gladio drove a truck, after all, that only comfortably fit a couple people. Someone his size and three drunk friends? Nah. Not a good idea.

“Still primping?” he teased. Ignis looked like he’d already gotten all his primping out of the way. In lieu of his usual spiked up style, his hair was slicked back into a more mature look. Gladio suspected his boyfriend’s hand in it, if only because the Ignis he knew wouldn’t have picked out a shirt that nice for a night he was liable to end intoxicated. That, and the pants. Sweet six, Gladio didn’t even know Iggy owned pants that tight. And they looked really, really good.

Gladio, on the other hand, had opted for a tank top and a pair of comfortable jeans, acutely aware of the chances that he was going to end up being ralphed on at some point that night. After all, he’d already been out drinking with both Noctis and Ignis before. One had no self-control and the other had so little tolerance as to make self-control meaningless. He really couldn’t imagine Blondie was going to be much better. He was like, what, 120 pounds soaking wet? Yeah. Gladio was pretty sure someone was going to vomit on him at some point. He was definitely not looking forward to that.

“Nice hair.” Ignis’ hands tightened slightly on the wheel at the comment. “Prom’s idea?” Obviously. This whole look had the blond’s fingerprints all over it.

“He said,” Ignis commented mildly, misleadingly calm, “it’s his birthday, so he gets to choose.”

“It looks good, though. Blondie has good taste.”

Ignis smirked, and yikes that wasn’t at all an effect he was prepared for. “You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t rely on the word of a man who favours a mullet seven months of the year.”

“Hey!” He reached up to touch his hair lightly with his fingertips, frowning. It _was_ a bit overgrown. He was pretty badly in need of a cut. But mullet? That was harsh. “It’s not a mullet!”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“It’s not a mullet!” he insisted. It was insulting, was what it was. But Ignis was smiling – laughing, even – and not looking all tense at the thought of the night ahead. Not that he thought the brunet didn’t want to spend the evening with his friends. Just. He was such a control freak. It had been an uphill fight, getting him to agree to relax and let someone else be the designated driver. And yeah, they were definitely going to take advantage of that, Gladio was sure of it. No way was the usually composed and buttoned up advisor escaping this night sober.

It wasn’t that exciting for Gladio. After all, he’d seen Ignis drunk before already. Maybe the other two would get it out of their system, once they realized it wasn’t as fun as it sounded. Maybe they’d get really lucky and be the ones to get barfed on. Wouldn’t that be great?

A quick text after they pulled into the parking lot at the prince’s apartment complex, and the younger two came scrambling down to join them. Noctis looked like an absolute dork, as usual. Royal black, of course, with a skull motif embossed across his tee, pants like he was wading through a flood, and for six sake his boots didn’t even match. His hair was artfully sculpted to resemble his bedhead – seriously, Gladio could not tell the difference.

Prompto, on the other hand. For a guy with such body image issues, he sure wore a lot of tight jeans – and these ones looked painted on. He paired it with boots that surely had more buckles than they really needed, a studded belt, and a sleeveless tank with red plaid across the shoulders. It was. Definitely a look. Gladio wasn’t quite sure what that look was, but Prom made it work. Maybe only Prom could make it work.

It was real cute, though, that Prompto and Iggy were both wearing coeurl print. They were a matching set. Sort of.

The two younger men hopped in the backseat, chattering away and half-wrestling before until Ignis got after them to buckle up. Gladio had been present for the discussion when they’d decided where they’d be going, so he wasn’t surprised when they headed for a well-known – at least among the guard – glaive bar. Ignis had initially pushed for something more reserved and Noctis for something more than a bit less. This had been the compromise to satisfy all parties. After all, the glaive weren’t exactly known for being tame . . . but it was a world and a half safer than _The Rowdy Raven_. Ignis had practically squawked with outrage at the mention of the infamously, well, rowdy tavern. Gladio almost hated to admit it, but he agreed. It was one thing to drag Ignis there. That was just entertainment. But the prince? Oh hell no. At least at a glaive bar, if something should happen, they shared the concern of keeping the prince safe with most everyone. Theoretically, anyway. Probably.

The bar itself had a surprisingly homey atmosphere. Warm lighting. Lots of wood, mismatched décor that somehow still felt cohesive, and there was an atmosphere of almost aggressive friendliness. Like family. Or friends that had known each other so long they’d have to put each other in the dirt if they ever broke up. At a glance . . . Gladio kind of liked it. But that didn’t stop him from heading for a corner table. Always better to have his back to the wall.

Prompto and Noctis immediately peeled off to collect drinks like a proclamation of future doom. No way were they starting slow. They were definitely coming back with shots, at the very least. Probably something with a ridiculous name and high, high alcohol content. This wasn’t going to end well for anybody. Why had he agreed to this again?

Right. Prompto’s birthday. He really was a sucker for those big blue eyes. And sucker really was the right word for it. But speaking of Prompto . . .

“So, how was it?”

“Hmmm?” Ignis glanced away from where he was tracking the younger two making their way across the bar. His brow had furrowed slightly with puzzlement in that adorable way, and Gladio gave a small grin.

“Dinner? Meeting the chocobo’s parents?” Seriously, what else would he be asking about. “Any of that ring a bell?”

“Ah.” For a moment of intense frustration, he thought that was all the brunet was going to say on the matter. “They were . . . nice.” Not that “nice” was much better. Nice? What was that even supposed to mean?

“What, really?”

Ignis just leveled a look at him and gave him the eyebrow. Like he wasn’t every bit as sure as Gladio had been that inviting Prom’s parents to dinner was going to affirm every terrible assumption they’d ever made. Bitch, please.

“Uncle Tellus liked them,” he commented mildly. Gladio had to assume he was deliberately not making a big deal out of it, though that really was saying something. Ignis’ uncle Ventus was friendly with everyone, always tried to see the best in everyone, at least as far as Gladio could tell. Tellus, on the other hand. Well.

Those who didn’t know the man probably just saw a bureaucrat. A paper pusher. A dull, quiet man. But anyone that knew better was either in his circle of people to protect or was someone who had found out the hard way: Tellus Scientia was not a dull, quiet man. Tellus Scientia was intelligent to an extreme and very, very skilled at his job. He didn’t seem to care much for humanity as a whole, but for those few he claimed as his own, he was absolutely ruthless, and when Tellus Scientia was being ruthless, he was frankly terrifying. And thank all six of the gods Ignis had also had Ventus as a counterbalance growing up. The world did not need two Tellus Scientias.

Before he could say as much, he spotted the younger two returning, one carefully balancing a tray as he walked and the other bouncing along excitedly. Gladio sighed. He’d expected the shots. He really had 100 percent expected a ridiculous number of shots. But sweet six, Ignis was going to be gone so fast.

“Here.” The blond was setting a shot in front of his boyfriend only moments after Noct set the tray down, grinning brightly. “I got this one for you.” It was so bright it was practically neon, but then again, in Prom’s book, blue flavor was probably a plus. Ignis stared doubtfully for a moment, but evidently resigned to his fate, picked it up all at once and threw it back, swallowing smoothly and, to Gladio surprise, barely even frowning. He really doubted that had been to his tastes.

But then, tonight wasn’t about him, was it?

The blond positively beamed when Ignis returned the shot glass, now empty, to the tray, clearly delighted his boyfriend was going along with their shenanigans so easily. He surged forward for a quick peck on the lips – fucking cute – then scooped up a shot for himself, throwing it back with zero hesitation before slamming it rim down on the table. Yikes. There was no fucking way that was Blondie’s first shot – or his second, or his third, for that matter. Gladio diverted his attention for a moment, scanning the club as an excuse and lightly coughing into his fist as he quietly pretended he wasn’t filing that image away for later. Gods.

Scanning the bar, he noted that, but for a few stragglers, this really was mostly a glaive bar – though perhaps there were more civilians about on busier nights. Perhaps the biggest surprise was recognizing a few crownsguard among them, but then, he supposed that despite the intense rivalry between the two factions, they couldn’t all hate each other. They did, after all, share common goals. In a sense. Even Gladio himself was friendly enough with the glaive to recognize a few faces, and certainly he recognized the heavyset glaive manning the bar, not to mention the pretty glaive leaning against the bar giving him a hard time, by the looks of it. As though sensing his gaze, the brunette looked up, giving him a saucy wink the moment they made eye contact. Gladio laughed. Maybe he needed a distraction, but Glaive Altius would not be a wise choice, to say the least. The woman would eat him a live, assuming she was game to put up with him in the first place. No, thank you.

“Ugh, Gladio.” His attention jerked back to the immediate at a shove at his shoulder, and he could only give a sheepish grin. He’d been caught. No point in denying it. Besides, the woman was hot, even if he never intended to do anything with the observation. “Come on, darts!” And then a hand was on his arm, lightly pulling him across the room.

The first few hours passed pleasantly enough, switching off between playing darts, flirting with anyone who happened to catch his eye, as he was apt to do, and just enjoying the presence of his friends as they became increasingly shitfaced. He’d been drinking with Noct before, of course, so he wasn’t at all surprised by his rate of deterioration. He was about average, really . . . not a lightweight, but certainly affected at an increasing rate by each drink as the night progressed. And Ignis, well. By the time they ordered a second round and Noct placed a drink in front of the man that he shyly suggested Ignis would like, Gladio personally was hoping it would be his last. He’d only had a couple shots, but he was already pretty much gone. Simply put, the advisor was a lightweight, and that was the real reason he didn’t even have a single glass of champagne like the rest of them at formal events. Not because he was snobby or too serious like some people thought.

It was Prompto, frankly, that was the surprise. Dude wasn’t much bigger than Noct, and he was knocking back drinks like they were nothing. He was definitely not sober, sure, but he could probably have matched Gladio for drink or drink. He’d be impressed if drinking wasn’t such a useless skill. But then again, considering who his best friend was, it was probably a skill that would come in handy someday. Unfortunately.

Regardless, he really thought they were all due for another round of water. After all, he’d seen two of the three hungover before, and the more he could minimize that, the better. Not that he could ever really tell if Noct was hungover or just . . . Morning Noct (TM). Plus he really needed a minute, okay. Noct was just sleepily scrolling through his phone while nursing his bright green fruity whatever, but Prompto and Ignis were tucked together and talking softly, and they kept laughing, and Gladio seriously thought he was going to lose his mind. Why were they so fucking. Shit. So sixdamn cute? Why did he have to feel like this? This was hell and he wished he could just get over it already.

He had no choice but the suck it up and keep going. Onward and upward. Forward momentum and surely, eventually, somehow, it would pass.

“Nooooooooo.”

Gladio just cocked a brow to come back to that exclamation, distantly noting that the prince had looked up from his phone and was watching with amusement. He placed the glasses on the table with a small frown, nudging three of them in front of his friends pointedly. Noctis immediately reached for his water, but Ignis barely glanced at the glass and Prom ignored it entirely – clearly both caught up in their discussion.

“Iggy Junior? We’ll just call her Junior for short.”

“No!” The brunet scowled, though the expression was more comical than menacing. Ahhh, he was at that stage. Yeah, Gladio was definitely cutting him off. There was a fine, _fine_ line between belligerent-cute-Iggy and . . . well, being vomited on was never fun, and he was so close to escaping that experience tonight, he could tell. Besides, Ignis looked so good right now. A few strands had escaped his coif to rest against the sharp angle to his cheekbones, and at some point he’d unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, revealing a tantalizing peek of collarbone. Prompto wasn’t much better, to be honest. While considerably less disheveled, lately Gladio had a hard time looking at him at all without thinking about whether he had freckles all over his body in all the places he couldn’t see, and gods help him if the thought wasn’t followed by a lot of inappropriate imaginings. Not good. Not good at all.

“I gotta pee,” Noct announced, having finished most of his glass of water in a few gulps. Gladio tracked his progress across the room, still listening to the other two. Just what in the hell. . . ?

“Lady Flufferbutt?” Was this about the cat? Sure, she needed a name, but. Then again, whatever Prom came up with drunk couldn’t be any worse than what Iggy came up with sober. Unless they really named her Lady Flufferbutt. That was awful.

“Nooooooo,” Ignis whined. Gladio stifled a cough into his fist to hide his expression. Yeeep. That was definitely one for the spank bank. There was no point in even pretending to himself he wasn’t going to be thinking about this later. For shit’s sake.

“Princess Cream? Queenie? We could just call her Darling.”

“NO!” For a moment, Ignis actually looked angry. Which was kind of hilarious, even if it was a teeny bit scary. “_You’re_ Darling.”

“Hmmmm.” Prompto gave a little laugh, his expression exaggeratedly thoughtful as he considered. “How about . . . ” He paused, straightening slightly in his seat to deliver his latest suggestion with the utmost gravity. “ . . . Ms. Marbles Fuzzington of House Scientia, First of Her Name, Queen of the Windowsill, Ruler with an Iron Fist.” He frowned. “Err . . . paw.”

“Yessssssss!” The advisor’s voice was gleeful as he pressed his palms to he blond’s cheeks. For a moment, Gladio thought he was going to pull him over to kiss him, even if it was Ignis, a man who openly scorned overt public displays of affection. Which was simultaneously an image he didn’t need and an image he really, _really_ did. “Marv’lous. Brilliant. Purrrrrr-fect.”

Prompto laughed again, and gods, he loved that sound. “Maybe just Ms. Marbles. How about that?”

Ignis pouted. Fucking shit. Fuck. “Okay,” he agreed, dropping his hands from the blond’s freckled face.

“Perfect,” Prompto agreed, echoing his boyfriend’s earlier word choice. His expression was so warm, so sixdamn fond. He leaned over to press a kiss to Ignis’s cheek, flinching slightly when the brunet broke into an unexpected fit of giggles at the touch, cheeks flushing and expression scrunching up adorably. The blond stared for a long moment before, grinning, kissing his cheek again. More giggles. Adorable, joyful, unexpected giggles.

Gladio fucking choked.

What the. Fucking hell. He wasn’t even drinking. What did he even choke on, his own fucking saliva? What the fuck. _What the fucking fuck._ He didn’t even know Ignis could be that cute. That was just unfair!

He waved off the blond’s concern as he coughed, deliberately not looking at either of them as he caught his breath. This was just stupid. It had been one thing when he’d just been surrounded by hot people. Why did his best friends have to all be so sixdamn cute?!

Once he was finally able to take a deep breath, he looked up, making a deliberate effort not to notice either friends’ worried expressions as he reached for his water, took a long drink. The cold water felt good on his throat. And at least he didn’t choke on it. See! He wasn’t a complete moron.

Well. Maybe he was. Where was Noct? Shouldn’t he have been back by now? What kind of fucking shield was he?

“Bathroom,” he explained simply as he pushed himself to his feet, acutely aware of his chair scraping harshly against the floor. If that little shit was throwing up, they were definitely going home. Preferably after he finished. Hopefully he would. You know. Finish. And not just pause. Gods.

Gladio ducked into the bathroom, his gaze sweeping the room in its entirety before snapping back to the figure slumped against the sink. Dark. Still. Unmoving. Shit. No no no no no.

“Noct?” His hand came to lightly settle against the prince’s shoulder. He didn’t see any blood. But that didn’t necessarily mean much of anything. He brought his other hand up to carefully cup his face, then shifted to feel for his pulse. Well, he was alive. He was breathing. He was . . . What was that noise? He leaned closer, struggling to parse it over the sound of the running sink. A slow, even breath, then . . .

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

The little fucker wasn’t hurt. He was snoring! He’d fallen asleep washing his sixdamn hands. For fuck’s sake.

“You deserve this,” he muttered, spiteful with relief. Without hesitation, his hand shifted up to the back of the prince’s head, then pushed him under the running water. It only took moments before the brat came up sputtering, and you know what. For gods’ sake. He dunked him again. Little shit.

“What the hell, Gladio?!”

Finally, Gladio released him, crossing his arms over his broad chest and, for a long moment, just staring. Glaring, Noctis turned the water off, then pushed his now dripping hair back from his face.

“Good thing,” he drawled, making no attempt to keep the frustration from his voice, “I only wanted to wake you up instead of come in here and slit your damn throat.” For fuck’s sake. All that training, and he fell asleep in the bathroom at a bar.

“Fuck you, Gladio.” The prince stomped more than a little unsteadily from the room, beelining back to their table.

Gladio followed, but with less stomping. “Time to go,” he announced, breaking up the love fest. Though, to be fair, both of the other two were more staring in alarm at the change in circumstance than cuddling. Which was great, because Gladio really couldn’t take much more of that. “Princess,” he explained, jabbing a thumb towards the prince as he retrieved his jacket, “can’t even stay awake long enough to finish in the bathroom.” He punctuated the statement with a roll of his eyes, and accepting it for what it was, Ignis, at least, immediately rose to his feet to leave. Though to his feet was about as far as he got without needing help. Damn, he was gone. But Blondie, at least, seemed together enough to help, thank all six of the gods, so he could focus on Prince Sulky. Like he somehow was the idiot here, and not the one who had literally fallen asleep in a public bathroom where just anyone could have walked in and done anything.

Okay, maybe dunking him in the sink the second time had been overkill, but Gladio had zero regrets.

Noctis remained silent as they walked out to the car, buckling himself in and pointedly looking out the window. It was strange that he’d taken the passenger seat, at least until Gladio realized that left Iggy and Prom to sit together in the back. Figures. Even when Noct was being a little bitch, he still managed to be a good friend. Even if that meant Gladio had to look in the rearview mirror to see them all cuddled up and whispering to each other. Sixdamnit. Ignis was so . . . fucking cuddly when he was drunk. This shit was just ridiculous. Just what he fucking needed.

The drive back to the apartment seemed endless. Partially because Noct's attitude and partially because they were giggling back there now holy fuck it was distracting. The traffic was terrible, too. So much stop and go. At least if he’d able to_ just drive_, he’d have had something to focus on. But no.

Then there was the logistics of the matter. Should he leave Iggy and Prom in the car while he dealt with the prince? What were the chances of them wandering off? Or maybe they’d just cuddle back there until he got back . . . luckily, that problem solved itself since Prompto, at least, was still steady enough to help his boyfriend. Which just left him with the prince, who by then, despite his wet hair and surly attitude, had managed to fall back asleep. Gladio scooped him up, gentle despite his still simmering irritation, and they all headed inside, straight through the entry to the elevator. No way in hell was he doing stairs after three of them had been drinking – not that it mattered too much in Noct’s case. He’d probably sleep through Gladio dragging him by the foot, if past experience was any indication.

One quick (and thankfully silent) elevator ride later, and they had reached their first stop. He told the other two to wait in the elevator while he put the prince down for the night, but he was exactly zero percent surprised to find that, by the time he was unlocking the prince’s apartment door, the two had already nearly caught up with him. Fuck it, whatever. Noct had a guest bed. They could share it. He waited just long enough to close the door behind them, then left them to their own devices while he put the prince to bed.

Which, really, was just a simple matter of stripping him down and tucking him in. They’d all done it, probably, and Gladio more times than most. Add a bottle of water to his nightstand and double check that he was laying in a position that, should he actually throw up, he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit, and . . . yep, good to go.

By then, Ignis and Prompto were no longer out in the common room. He sighed, then moved to knock lightly on the guest room door, which wasn’t quite closed. “You two good?” Blondie gave him a quick grin and thumbs up, and he smiled a little despite himself to see Iggy full on collapse onto the bed. Yeah, he was so gone. Probably would be asleep in seconds. Good luck getting him under the covers, kid. Heh. “I’m heading out. Call me if you need anything.”

And that was it. He was _so_ done. Done and gone, over and out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignis: *unbuttons exactly one button only*  
Gladio, probably: Bring me my fainting couch.


	7. Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Please enjoy this entirely too long chapter. <3

Noctis swore that this was the weirdest fucking week.

Of course, October always felt a little weird. The holiday was supposed to be Daemon's Night, but really it was more like Daemon's Month, and that aesthetic crept into literally everything. The whole month always felt a little off in its own weird way. Noctis didn't really mind most of the time, but that was most of the time and not when the week started out with a knife wielding imp attacking one of his friends!

Not that Noctis was stupid enough to think the attack hadn't been for him. It was always for him. That was his life, for there to always be a not quite vague chance that someone was going to try and kill him wherever he went. It was one of the many aspects of being royalty that fucking sucked ass. It sucked ass more when it affected one of his. This time was a double whammy, if he was being completely honest. Gladio had gotten it in his face, good enough to leave a nice long scar. That was bad enough, but this time was worse, because Prompto had been there.

Prompto had never seen that side of it before.

There had been a kernel of fear there, once everything had died down. Once Gladio was fine, he was fine. The worry about that faded as soon as he was released from the hospital, but Noctis then began to worry about something else.

Prompto was not tied down to him. Prompto could walk away. It was wonderful on one hand - a friend that chose him every day. It was also terrifying to think that maybe, after seeing that, he'd go home, change his phone number, move, and Noctis would never see him again. He could. He could do that. Nothing could stop him. Not even his boyfriend. Prompto had no idea the kind of power he held in his hands. He could break their hearts, all of their hearts, in just about five seconds if he wanted. Noctis didn't want that. He wanted him to stay. Forever.

It was stupid and childish to think of things like forever like that, but Noctis knew he was a stupid and childish man. He wasn't really prince material. He had simple wants. It wasn't even the normal wants like a wife and children. All he wanted in life. Was. To be chosen. By his friends, over and over and over again. To be with them every day. He got that more than most people, he knew. Even if there was a certain princess he held close to his heart that he only got to see once every few years. Maybe someday, she'd be close at hand too. For now, though, he clung to Prompto, the one who could leave him (them), and thought the weirdness was over.

It wasn't. The weirdness hung over him like a cloud as the days crept on. The constant reminder of something not quite right being Lars. The first morning Lars had shown up instead of Ignis, Noctis had needed to physically stop himself from rolling his eyes. Right. Ignis was taking days off. So he could move. So he could ask Prompto to move in with him. It was like men in those stupid romance movies Gladio liked. _"I bought a whole farm just so you could move in, but I won't ask you to move in with me and my five horses, three cows, ten chickens, and two cats until I'm already settled."_

Noctis didn't really get the whole preening and showing off bit, and he'd said as much when Ignis had told him the plan. "Just ask him to be your player two and then talk about whether you need to move." Apparently that wasn't enough of a power move. Not enough dedication. Like they hadn't literally both gotten hanahaki for each other less than a year before. Whatever. Ignis had seemed excited, and Noctis was all for his friends being happy (and so fucking gross) together. Even if that meant dealing with Lars for a few days while Ignis moved and prepared to crush Prompto's parents.

That was another weird thing. Prompto suddenly saying his parents were going to be in town. His parents were never in town! Noctis had spent years trying to meet them, never knowing that they weren't just busy with work, but that they were busy with work out of the city and all across the rest of Lucis! They weren't just a couple hours away, they were usually days away! It had taken Prompto almost dying for them to figure out that Prompto spent his nights alone in a home meant for a family of three, and it had taken Noctis all of three seconds after hearing that to decide he hated them with all his soul.

He'd never really thought it would matter, how much he hated them. Prompto was his now, and he was becoming more and more entangled in Ignis, and even Gladio was showing more interest in participating in Prompto's day to day life. His parents had no idea what they'd given up, and now they were taking it. He'd never really thought that it'd much come up at all. If they couldn't show up when their son was literally going to die, they certainly weren't going to show up for his sixdamn birthday. Until they did.

Though it had been a weekday, Noctis had sort of made internal plans to skip out on his princely work and steal Prompto for the day. Thursday was kind of a slow meeting day anyway, and Ignis was still going to be off, so the only person he'd really be fucking over was Lars. Noctis was okay with fucking Lars over. With Prompto's parents in the picture, that plan was dropped, though that was perhaps for the best. He still didn't even have Prompto's birthday gift wrapped. He'd been going to wrap it before they came for the dinner at Ignis' new apartment, but almost as though Lars had known today was an important day (and maybe he did. Prompto's records were public and open.) he'd kept him busy right down to the wire. He'd had to hurry to get home in time to let them in.

Tomorrow, he told himself as he settled in to wait for them to arrive. He'd have it ready for him tomorrow. He'd have all night after this, after all. He could do it, right?

He'd barely sent off the message telling Prompto where to go to get in before they'd arrived, proving that he'd been right to hurry. He tried to focus on Prompto, but he exchanged words with his parents too. He tried to be as cordial as possible. They seemed . . . normal. They looked nothing like Prompto, but Noctis supposed they shouldn't have. He was adopted, after all. It was still kind of weird, how Lucian they looked next to him. It was weirder how happy and not bored they seemed to be here. How pleased they seemed to be able to meet him. He went back up to his apartment feeling dazed.

Such a weird fucking week.

The feeling had faded by morning, even though Lars was still there. He texted back and forth with Prompto, even when he really shouldn't have had his phone out. He wasn't in the meeting mentally or emotionally, only physically. The rest of him was hours in the future, out drinking at a bar with his friends. He and Gladio hadn't been able to celebrate his actual birthday with him, but honestly, Noctis definitely took the whole "birthday week" thing to heart. It was Prompto's birthday for at least the next three days. If any deserved such an elongated birthday, it was his friends. Especially Prompto, who probably didn't usually celebrate much.

The day dragged by. He did his best to keep his head in the game, but by the end of the day even Lars was waving him off, which meant he'd reached a whole other level of princely uselessness. Today, that was fine. Today, he wasn't feeling like a prince. He didn't want to feel like a prince. He wanted to feel like a good friend to the friend who had always been so good to him. The chance to be just that came as soon as Noctis arrived back at his apartment. Prompto was already at his door waiting for him, dressed, but hair undone. He'd probably only been out of the shower long enough for his hair to be properly dry. No way had Prompto wandered around all day with his hair undone, not even for Ignis.

"Have I ever said that you look good in a suit, but you also don't look like you in a suit?"

Noctis laughed. "You may have mentioned it once or twice." Or really, every single time he saw him in a suit. Whatever, from Prompto it was amusing. Annoying from anyone else.

"Well, you do." Noctis let him into his apartment, and got to work getting dressed into something not so formal. "I'm assuming Specs is already ready."

"Yep. I've already got him styled. He says we have twenty minutes."

"I'm gonna need more than that."

"Same," Prompto agreed, "and I've just got my hair."

Sure enough, twenty minutes later Ignis had let himself in and was sighing at the sight of them crowded in his bathroom trying to do their hair properly. "The two of you had best be ready when I return with Gladio." His tone sounded strict, but Noctis saw the softness in it too. That was not his Citadel meeting voice. That was his _my boyfriend is a dork why do I love him_ voice.

"We'll be ready," Prompto promised.

"You'd best." Ignis withdrew from the bathroom doorway, and then Noctis heard the click of the door as he left the apartment again. With him off to get Gladio, they had maybe a half hour tops to get ready. That was enough time to finish hair styling and to probably ask enough questions that Prompto was going to kill him.

"So," he began.

"So?" Prompto didn't even look up from where he was trying to a few strands of hair to stand up properly in the mirror. Perfect.

"Did you say yes?"

That got Prompto to stop. It got him to stop mid-gelling, twist his head around, mouth equally twisted into a deep reproachful frown that made Noctis do nothing but laugh. "Dude!"

"Well?! Did you?"

"You're making it sound like he asked me to marry him!"

Noctis snorted. He turned his head back toward the sink and ran some water over his hands, and then his hands went through his hair as a final touch. "Didn't he though? I mean, as close as he can get." After all, same sex marriage wasn't legal. Yet. Not. Fucking. Yet. It would be in their lifetime, or Noctis was going to haunt a whole bunch of assholes from the After. "I mean, he's pretty much asked you for the household he grew up in. His uncles couldn't marry, but they've lived together for longer than any of us have been alive. Together, in an apartment you make home - together. Not legally binding, but it's as close as he can get."

Prompto stared down at the sink even though there was nothing exciting going on in it. "Oh shit." He took in a shaking breath. "You're right. I hadn't thought about it like that!"

Noctis laughed. He couldn't help it. The pink that stained his friend's cheeks was cute. So was the panic. "Don't worry about it too much. I don't think Specs really realizes it either." Noctis knew, though. Noctis knew how big of a deal it was for Ignis to ask Prompto to literally share his space and his life. Even if it couldn't be legalized. (Yet. Dammit.) He wasn't wrong. The environment that Ignis had grown up in with his uncles had been tiny, domestic, and filled with love. Tellus worked hours like Ignis'. Tellus had always had Ventus to come home to at the end of it. Noctis would be a fool to not see that Ignis was seeking that, too. Someone to come home to. Someone who would stay. "You didn't answer the question, though. Did you say yes?"

"I did!" Prompto half snapped at him. "I thought that was obvious." He grumbled after.

Noctis smiled. It wasn't like this wasn't good news for him too. Having his best friend a couple floors up at all times was a thousand times better than him living two or three districts away. Even if they didn't really see each other much more frequently, Noctis felt like he'd feel better having him so close. His friend. The one who chose him. "I'll help you move when you get there."

"You don't gotta!"

"Wanna." He flicked off the water droplets into his sink with a sigh. "Speaking of wanna and will, I gotta give you your gift."

"You don't gotta!" Prompto repeated, his voice pitched a little higher this time. Noctis just laughed at him.

"I wanna."

Mostly, Noctis didn't understand why people wrapped gifts. It seemed like a giant waste of time, effort, and resources when someone else was just going to rip off all the paper at a later date. He understood it just then, though, watching Prompto unwrap his gift. There was a thrilling kind of magic in watching someone's face as they tried to figure out the gift, and then the feeling when you saw them actually see it. Prompto was such an expressive person, so the effect was magnified, and Noctis couldn't help but feel like he was getting a gift himself to see it. This was why parents took home video of their children opening presents on Crystallo Nox, he was sure of it.

"Is this really the whole collection?"

"Yep, every single Assassin's Creed novel. Special edition. You're better with e-books, right? I got those, too, to send to you, but they don't have the pictures like these do."

"You're the best, Noct."

Noctis was pretty sure that was actually Prompto, but he didn't argue the point.

The bar they went to was definitely not the one Noctis had wanted them to go to, but he could (begrudgingly) admit it was probably the best option. It was far from his and Prompto's first night drinking together, but it was Prompto's first time out legally, and his first time out to a bar. The calmer atmosphere was probably better. Maybe at a later date, he could get Prompto to take them to the Rowdy Raven. Just them, because Ignis and Gladio were both hard nos on that one.

Regardless, Noctis planned on getting absolutely shitfaced, and he was bringing both Ignis and Prompto with him. (Not Gladio, though. Gladio was to only have non-alcoholic things.) His plan to get shitfaced worked so well that there were only three things from that evening that he would remember with absolute clarity. The third was getting dunked in the sink at the end of the night. The second was that there was a discussion about the kitten's name. The first was at the very beginning of the night, and it was Gladio's absolute surprise at Prompto throwing back a shot like a pro. Oh, he had thought to himself. Gladio was going to be even more surprised when he realized that Prompto had about half a hollow leg for alcohol. Way more tolerance than a guy his size should.

He'd wanted it to be a fun night, and Noctis was sure, around the blurry edges of everything else, including darts, that it had been until the head dunking. Drinking was fun. It was a lot of fun, perhaps only because it made him forget who he really was for a few hours, but fun was fun, and even though Gladio was a killjoy, it was fun with friends.

Most people complained about the morning after - the hangover. Noctis didn't have that. Noctis just got to the point where he passed out, and in the morning he woke up and felt . . . well, he felt like shit, but no more like shit than he did any other morning. His running theory was that his own magic drank up the alcohol. The Crystal's Void likes pina coladas too, right? Probably. It apparently liked green apple shots, because when he woke up the next morning, he just felt like himself. There was no other monster living in his head making everything hell.

He got up and got dressed all without even looking at the clock. When he finally did look at his phone, it was just after nine in the morning, and he had a text from Gladio asking how everyone was feeling. How would he know? . . . wait. Had Ignis and Prompto crashed here? He hadn't seen Prompto on his couch, and Prompto always took the couch rather than the actual bed. Hmm. Did he dare open that door?

He'd best open it. Gladio didn't send texts like that unless he was actually worried. It was best to open it. Face what was probably within, which was either too much sweetness for his stomach to handle . . . or death.

What he actually got when he opened the door was somewhere between the two. His guest bed didn't have two lumps on it. It really only had one. That meant they were impossibly tangled up in each other under there probably in ways that Noctis did not want or need to know about. The "terrifying" part came a moment later in the form of Ignis straight up hissing at him like a snake whose rock had been disturbed. "Close. The. Door."

Fucking hell. Noctis put a hand up to his mouth to his mouth to stifle a laugh. He sounded pathetically weak and sick. "Man. Hangover's got you good, huh?" He hadn't even had that much to drink. Like two drinks. Not even half of what he'd had. Not even a quarter of Prompto's intake. He knew Ignis had a low tolerance, but _damn_.

"Highness. Kindly. Be. Quiet." There was no kindly in that tone. Noctis was surprised he could even pull the word out of his ass.

"I'll just go get a couple things to help with that, okay? Be back in probably like an hour."

Another hiss followed him out of the room as he, gently, very gently, closed the door behind him. He felt good. It wasn't often that he was the first one up - usually more like last one. It also wasn't often that Ignis was left weak, exposed, and Noctis could do something to help him. Mind you, help was coming in the form of a pack that new limited edition flavor of Ebony that Noctis knew Ignis hadn't been willing to buy until his own reservoir at home had dwindled, regular coffee for Prompto, hot chocolate for him because he was an adult now and could admit that coffee was disgusting, and about ten breakfast sandwiches. The bag felt heavy, maybe he'd really ordered ten. Ah, whatever. They'd keep in the fridge if it was too many. Even Ignis wouldn't forbid him use of the microwave. He wasn't that bad.

When he returned to his apartment, Prompto was awake. "I raided your medicine cabinet," he said from his spot on the couch, arm thrown over his eyes dramatically. Man, if hangovers were really that bad, Noctis was super happy that the Crystal Void liked pina coladas and walks in the rain.

"I don't care. How you feeling?"

"Not as bad as Iggy."

Noctis snorted. "And that's the benchmark, huh?"

"That's the new benchmark for _everything_. Swear to the Six."

"It's nice, though. I can do something for him, for once. Like you know. Bring coffee and food. It's nice to help him."

"Yeah," said Ignis' boyfriend who probably had ten times as many opportunities to help him. (Noctis wasn't jealous of that at all. Not. At. All.) "It's really nice."

"I brought you coffee and food, too."

"I know, I can smell it."

"Is that bad?" He knew that sometimes that was bad. He hoped it wasn't bad.

"Nah." Relief flooded him. "Just. Give me a sec."

It took more than a second, really more like a minute, for Prompto to uncurl himself from his position on the couch. Once he was sitting up properly, though, he took his coffee and sipped at it readily enough. After about the third sip something loosened in his face, and Noctis felt a little better. Good. He'd done something right. It wasn't all that often that Noctis did something right.

They ate and drank in silence for a little while. That was probably better, Noctis thought. Noise was probably a little sensitive still. The crinkling of paper wrappings was probably grating enough on Prompto's ears. He'd noticeably perked up after his second sandwich, though, so the salt and fat bomb must have been doing its job. Noctis dared to speak again. "You wanna play King's Knight? We can turn off the sound."

"That's probably good," Prompto said as he curled up with his coffee again. "The less sound we make now, the happier Iggy's gonna be later." Blank eyes stared at his coffee table, or really, they looked past the coffee table at something Noctis knew wasn't really there.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Hm. Just that I'm now super glad I thought to take my phone with me when I got out of bed. He'd probably kill me if I tried to go back in there."

Noctis rolled his eyes. "He wouldn't kill you. You're the love of his life."

"Dude. Not. Even."

"Yeah, okay." Prompto was, though. He was totally the love of his life.

"Even if I were, he almost killed you, and you're his reason for breathing."

Now that. That was an exaggeration. "It's fine. If I die, the Crystal will just spit out another prince."

"Pfft. Pretty sure that's not how that works, Noct."

"That's totally how it works. Any time Lucis needs a royal the Crystal gets indigestion and vomits up a prince or princess, fully formed and totally confused." Okay, yeah, he was totally bullshitting him, but it dragged a laugh out of Prompto. For Noctis, that was all the reason he needed to lie through his teeth.

"Yeah, okay dork. Just for that, I'm kicking your ass in King's Knight today."

They'd probably been playing for an hour when Ignis emerged from the guest room. It was almost another half an hour before he actually joined them in the living room, bleary eyed and still not even quite as awake as Prompto had been when Noctis had first gotten back. "I'll heat up a sandwich for you."

"Let's see if I can even handle an Ebony first." A trembling hand reached for the pack, but Prompto, now almost fully himself again, got to it first and cracked it open. "My thanks."

"Sure thing." The two of them acted like they'd gone back to playing, but the reality was more that they were watching Ignis. He sipped pitiably at his Ebony, staring blankly at the wall.

After about two rounds in King's Knight, Prompto dared to speak again. "You okay, Babe?"

"I will be," Ignis replied, sounding much like Noctis did early in the morning on a normal day.

"Yeah? You want a sandwich now?"

"That . . . may be for the best." Noctis hopped up before Prompto could, and reheated one of the sandwiches in the microwave as happily as someone who was serving someone who was scarily hungover could. Need he repeat? It wasn't every day that he got to help Ignis with much of . . . anything. Ignis did the helping. Ignis was not helped. Except for today.

Ignis didn't reject the reheated sandwich, though he ate it with the same sort of fervor he'd drank his Ebony with. That was to say none whatsoever. He ate even more slowly than he normally did, staring at the same spot on the wall. It was only some time after the sandwich was gone that it seemed to help him, but it wasn't until he actually felt well enough to rub his face with his hands that he started to act even remotely like himself. "Don't you have training with Gladio today?"

"Yeah." Their normal day was Wednesday, but Gladio hadn't been cleared for training yet on Wednesday, so today was catch up. Which was a pain, but Noctis wasn't going to complain. He was glad that Gladio was getting better. "Not until later, though."

"I'm not going to be well enough to drive you."

Yeah. He was starting to feel a little better if he was thinking about that. "That's okay. I'll get there."

"Do you want me to call Lars to come get you?"

"I'd sooner walk," Noctis replied cheerily. That would have been the answer anyway, regularly, but today he felt especially strong about it. He'd seen more of Lars this last week than he wanted to see him for the rest of his sixdamn life.

"Noct. Please. Be reasonable."

Oh. Noctis knew he should. Ignis was trying to help, but the older Ignis got, the less Ignis saw what the problem with Lars was. Noctis saw. Noctis always saw. He took in a deep breath. "~I have walked five hundred miles,~" he began, sort of half singing the tune, "~And I would walk five hundred more, to be the guy who avoided Lars right to the Crownsguard door.~"

"~Da-da-da-la-da!~" Prompto put in, grinning.

"~Da-da-da-la-da!~" Noctis returned, also grinning.

Ignis groaned. "Cease and desist, both of you."

They did stop, but not without looking one another straight in the eyes and chuckling in a manner that was menacing enough to Ignis that he smacked at one of Prompto's knees in weak-weak warning.

"Anyway," Noctis said once Prompto had stopped laughing. "I'll just call Gladio. I'm sure he'll be happy to come get me." If only because calling him was showing a vested interest in actually showing up for training, and Gladio was all about that.

"If you think that's the best course of action." Noctis did. He really did, and soon after he thought the best course of action was also to send his friends back up to their own apartment. Ignis still had quite a bit of hangover to get through, and after a second breakfast sandwich didn't perk him up any more than the first one had, Prompto agreed that it was best to get Ignis back to bed. His own bed this time.

"Text me when you get back. If you're not too tired, maybe I can come play for an hour or so." Prompto shrugged before leaning forward and adding in a more hushed tone. "Between you and me, I think Iggy's gonna be out for the rest of the day." Noctis wouldn't be too surprised if that were true. He hadn't even been up for a couple hours, but he looked dead tired. Like five meetings in a row with no Ebony tired. Prompto by comparison was pure solar energy.

"I'll let you know, but I haven't trained with Gladio in a week. You know he's not gonna go easy on me."

"I bet not. Well, let me know either way. 'Kay?"

"Sure."

After they were gone, he texted Gladio, and not even an hour later he was getting into Gladio's truck. Riding in Gladio's truck was always an experience, if only because it was so high up off the road that it was an entirely different perspective on everything. Today it was also different because Gladio kept coughing. It wasn't long bouts of heavy hacking, but every couple minutes or so he'd give a short chuff. "You okay?" he asked after the third or fourth time this happened. "You getting sick?" Because if he was getting sick, Noctis was having him turn this truck around.

"Nah. It's the medication," Gladio said casually. "It says right on the bottle that it might cause dry mouth."

"You're still taking drugs?"

"Nah, but it takes a couple days to get out of your system, you know?" Noctis supposed that made sense. It might also be why Gladio had volunteered to be designated driver the night before. He didn't want an interaction. That was fair.

"You sure you're okay to train?"

"Yeah," Gladio said, nodding firmly. "I've been itching to get back in there." Noctis certainly hadn't, but if this was a day where he was helping out his friends, Noctis was happy to help Gladio get back into his routine. Even if that meant he was gonna end the evening with his ass flat on the mat.

Once they were at the training hall, Gladio chugged a bottle of Gatorade and they got to work. Since it'd been a week, they decided to start off small with hand to hand self defense, and depending on how long that went on, they'd move on to primary weapon mock battle. It was nothing that would be terribly difficult for either of them getting back into the swing of working with each other, and Noctis was fine with that.

What wasn't fine was Gladio's performance. He'd been out of commission for a week. He was fighting like it had been months. It was weird. Gladio prided himself on being trained well. He prided himself on being able to put Noctis flat on his back by the end of every session, no matter how hard Noctis came for him. Today though . . . today wasn't even a struggle for Noctis. He could block blows without phasing, he could get in blows without warping. He really didn't have to use magic at all, and magic was normally his only advantage. Today he didn't need it, and it wasn't because he'd suddenly gotten just so much better.

On top of everything else, Gladio just kept on coughing. "Are you sure you aren't getting sick?" Noctis asked at the end of their hand-to-hand session.

"Positive, princess." Noctis wrinkled his nose, as he always did when being called that nickname. "You're not getting out of weapons training." That was the thing, he wasn't actually trying to.

Weapons training just made the problem even more obvious. Gladio often used his broadsword as both weapon and shield in a way. Today it didn't feel like either. Noctis' main weapon was a smaller sword fit for speedy strikes. Noctis swore that if this were a training bout between Gladio and anyone else, well, Gladio would be in the infirmary already. Noctis liked winning. He didn't like winning like this. "Stop."

The rule of the mat was the moment you said stop, you stopped, and so Gladio stopped, but it was clear that he didn't like it. "What's up with you?"

"No. What's up with you?!" Noctis jabbed a finger at his chest. "You're not fighting like you. Something is wrong, and it's fine if you don't want to tell me, but I'm not sparring with you while you're like this!" He flung his sword away from him, where it simply disappeared back into the ether of his armiger. "I'm not even sure I should let you take us home, or if I should just make us stay in our rooms at the Citadel!" And oh, how Noctis hated staying in his rooms at the Citadel. Perhaps one day he could live in them without remembering a lonely childhood, but that day was not today.

Gladio's face was one of fury. After all, Noctis knew Gladio had a lot of anger in him. He knew that. He'd poke and prod it though, if that meant that maybe Gladio would admit that something was wrong. Perhaps he'd been planning to. Perhaps. He never got there though. Instead, when he opened his mouth, out came a fit of coughing. It wasn't just the clearing of the throat or the chuffs. It wasn't just a normal cough. No. This was coughing like he was dying from it. This was the sort of coughing that sent someone to the hospital for the effort of it.

Noctis watched in horror as Gladio fell to his knees. His hands fumbled for his phone. He had to call someone, quite possibly the paramedics. He wouldn't quite get that far before Gladio stopped, and the reason felt like a cold punch to his gut.

On the mat Gladio had dropped two flowers.

The blood in Noctis' veins ran cold. No. No. No. This wasn't allowed. This had better be a joke! The look on Gladio's face said it was definitely not a joke. "How long?" He said, and when Gladio didn't give him an instant reply he upped his volume. "How long?!"

"This is the first time!" Gladio finally said, his voice hoarse and desperate. "I swear!"

"Bullshit!" Noctis yelled. "Those are fully formed flowers! I know how this works!" He knew too well at this point. Far too well. "You don't get fully formed flowers the first time!" In fact. Wait. Wait. "Are those. Are. Are they two different flowers?!" They were. One of them was purple. One of them was blue. They were different sizes. They were different shapes. "How do you get two different flowers?!"

"Why don't you figure it out?!" Gladio snapped back at him, as though it ought to be the most obvious thing in the world. Perhaps it was. Perhaps to someone who was capable of love, the answer to that would have been obvious. Noctis just struggled. For too long he sifted through idea after idea, discarding them all until the idea that should have been obvious popped in his head.

"Two people." One flower represented one person, the infected's perception of them. If there were two flowers, then Gladio was pining after two different people. Equally. The very idea seemed absurd. Gladio didn't pine. He had a new person on his arm every other week, and never settled down. He had the body to get whoever he wanted and wasn't afraid to do exactly that. Maybe that was what made this whole situation even more fucked up. The idea that Gladio had fallen in love with someone (two someones!) he felt he couldn't have, because if he thought he could have them, well. He would.

Noctis dragged his hands down over his face. The motion did not make this seem any better. "Two fucking people?!"

"Yeah! Okay?! Two people!"

"Who?!" This wasn't like Prompto where the answer had been in everyone's face but Ignis'. This wasn't even like Ignis. At least they'd made sense! They hid their emotions, but Gladio didn't! "Or do I have to figure that out too?!" Judging by the sour expression on Gladio's face that was exactly how this was going. He had to figure it out himself. He could feel his face twisting into something his father would probably tell him that his face was freeze into if he kept it like that too long, but how else was he supposed to react?! Gladio was shutting down, Gladio had hanahaki over two people, and Noctis . . .

Noctis couldn't do this again.

He'd thought that about Prompto too. He couldn't do this again. Ignis had been too much heartbreak, and then he'd had to do it again and it had been worse. This time he meant it. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't handle watching Gladio deteriorate. Prompto had been nearly bone thin and weak by the end. Prompto had been thin anyway, but the idea that Gladio might wither away into a stick of a man was truly terrifying. He couldn't handle it. "You have to tell them! Even if it ends in rejection!"

"I know," Gladio said in that same hoarse voice. "I will."

"Prompto said that to me, too!" He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Gods, he was going to cry. He was going to cry like a big weak baby in front of Gladio, who'd (maybe not today, but later) mock him for it! "He said that, and then he didn't, and he almost died! You're not allowed to do that to me!"

"I understand."

He sobbed. One big dry sob scraped its way out of his throat, and then he looked down at the mat with his breath coming in great gulps of air. "I'm going to touch your stupid flowers, okay?"

"Fine." He was just. So. Shutdown. The life was draining out of him. It made Noctis shake.

Neither of the flowers was very large. Neither of them was particularly wet, either, which under the raging storm inside of him made Noctis think that maybe Gladio really did have dry mouth. Maybe he really had thought until this moment that his coughing came from medication. Maybe this _was_ the first time. Maybe it was different when you pined for two.

Noctis was no expert in the language of flowers, but he didn't think that it really mattered too much. What mattered more was the person's perception of the flower, right? How it fit in with the person? Maybe? Prompto had once said he'd not even known what goldenrod was before he'd coughed it up, but Noctis thought that even that fit in with how he'd felt about Ignis.

Even slightly damp, Noctis knew what both of these flowers were. The first one was a violet. Even he had heard the meaning of those, because they were used in several different house crests, including the full and proper version of Ignis' family crest. Well, he knew one meaning, anyway, though he was sure the flower had more. They always had more than one. Violets were loyalty. That was what made them popular among nobles, they symbolized a loyalty (to the crown, in theory.) The color too, was noble. Black was royal, but other gem shades had once been reserved for nobility, probably for the stark contrast. Ignis' house colors were purple and blue. The blue was a weak powdery blue and Ignis had always seemed to ignore it, probably thinking it didn't sit right against his skin. Instead he'd embraced the purple, and Noctis was fairly sure it was actually his favorite color. If Ignis admitted to being "immature" enough to have a favorite color.

Now that he thought about it, he'd learned last February that violets were the February birth flower, because Prompto had brought Ignis some. You know. For his February birthday. Before that, Noctis had known about the monthly birth stones but not flowers.

Noctis had to set all of this aside while he inspected the other flower. It was a little harder to tell what it was, but the more exposed to air it got, the more it opened up. It was a morning glory. There was a kind of funny thing about morning glories. Lucians considered them weeds. Noctis was sure that if he made his way up to Lars' office with a few morning glories in full bloom he'd sneer and tell him to get some weed killer. The other side of that scale would be if Noctis wandered on down to the Glaive training hall and held up those same few morning glories, he was sure he'd get at least a few people waxing poetic. Those glaives would tell him how beautiful they were, ask who was honored enough to get them.

To a Lucian a morning glory was a weed, but to a Galahdian, there simply was no flower more romantic. Gladio was an Amicitia. That was Lucian, but while Noctis didn't know his mother's maiden name, he knew she'd been Galahdian through and through. He hadn't seen her often, as she'd hated court-life as much as she'd loved Clarus, but she'd made sure her heritage and culture and been passed down to her children. Noctis had memories of Iris telling him the story more times than he could count. The story was of a man who'd fallen in love with the sun, (and the sun with him? Was the sun a god? He couldn't remember), but the sun was too bright for him to behold for long. To be with his love, he went through trials and journeys, overcoming even a Galahdian coeurl at one point.

Eventually the man had reached the highest point in all of Galahd, but he discovered that even there he could not reach his love, and the brightness was even more intense. It would cause him to go blind if he stayed, and he knew this, but he stayed. He stayed knowing it would harm him, because he loved the sun. His family called him crazy, his village left him for dead, but still he stayed, and when the storm season came, so did Ramuh. Ramuh could not take the man to the sun, but what he could do was give the man a form that could greet the sun every morning and love it freely with all its heart. The man agreed, and so Ramuh molded him into the morning glory whose vibrant colors celebrated its love and whose vines are ever trying to get just that much closer.

They say that someday the vines will reach all the way up to the sun, and they will finally be together.

Or so Iris had told him many times after being told the story herself. No doubt that Gladio too had been told this story. Who did Noctis know that others might consider a weed, but those who knew them knew they worked hard and were true to a fault? Who did he know that was so bright and yet also blue?

He had his answer. It only made everything worse.

"Gladio. They're. They're in a relationship. Together. They're happy." For once. Noctis really believed that they were both really happy. Ignis hadn't been happy since childhood. He didn't know if Prompto ever had been.

"You don't think I know that?! I don't want them to break up! I just." Gladio faltered for a second. "I want to be part of it too." He sighed. "I didn't feel like this until they were together, Noct. I didn't." Noctis didn't know if being a new development was better or worse. "I can't explain it to you. You've never been in love."

No. He hadn't. He never would be. He was incapable. "Is that what this is? Love?"

"Yes." Well, at least he sounded sure about that. "They've always been attractive, but . . . it's more now."

"I don't get it, Gladio. I don't."

"I know," he mumbled.

"You've got to tell them!" He said again as the embers of his anger and frustration picked up again. It was different now. He wasn't mad at Gladio for pining or feeling. Of course he hadn't told them before now. Why would he? What good would come of that? But why did his heart have to pick a relationship to pine for? Why did his heart have to pick something it couldn't have? Why did anyone's? "I'm not doing this again! And! And!" He made a sound. It was all the things in his heart combined into one thing. "They've both had it! They'll . . . help you. If they can." Noctis believed that too. Even if Ignis wanted to walk away, Prompto wouldn't. Prompto was a good person. Better than the rest of them. He'd do whatever he could to help Gladio, and if nothing else, Ignis would help Prompto.

"I'm giving you a week."

Gladio gave a wan laugh. "Yeah? And what are you gonna do if I don't confess in a week?"

"I don't know, but I'll have figured it out by then."

"Yeah, okay, brat." Noctis smiled. It felt vicious. Was this how Ignis felt whenever he smiled at assholes in meetings? It kind of felt good. "Don't tell them before I can. Okay?"

"I won't. Believe me, Gladio. I don't want to touch this with a ten thousand foot pole. It's all yours."

Way on the other side of the training hall the timer went off. Their training session was over. Noctis would be happy to flee, but not for the reason he normally was. "Are you gonna be okay to drive? Or should we really stay?"

"Or you could drive."

"I think we know Specs would murder us both." Even if he didn't crash the car, it'd be all over the tabloids by morning. _'Prince drives his own car, what is the country coming to?'_ He really did not want to have Ignis coming in and slapping that down on his table, even if it was one of the more ridiculous headlines he could think of.

Gladio sighed. They both knew he was right. Noctis wasn't a terrible driver, not really, but the media would be down his throat. Learning to drive was one thing, actually chauffeuring himself around? Completely another. "I can drive."

"You sure?"

"Yeah." Noctis decided to not argue it and trust him. They had bigger fish to fry. Well. Gladio did. Noctis just got to worry about it.

Boy did Noctis worry about it. A lot. Every time he got a text or saw one of them he thought about it. Was this the moment? Was this the time he was going to hear all about this ridiculousness? Had he been wrong? Were they now gonna be on not speaking terms? He liked to think that things would ultimately be fine, but he wasn't sure. He couldn't be. Ignis having Hanahaki had messed with his perception of Ignis a bit, or a lot. He'd gotten used to it, but now his perception of Gladio was skewed, too. He, and everyone else he was pretty sure, had Gladio pegged as a playboy waiting for the time when his father told him to settle the fuck down. This? This told him something completely different. It wasn't bad. If it weren't for the object of it being his two other friends Noctis would actually be pleased. Hell, he'd be happy if he knew how it was going to end.

But he didn't. It made him jumpy.

Three days passed and nothing happened. The fourth day was Daemon's Night, and Noctis couldn't blame Gladio for probably wanting to wait until after their movie, pizza, and candy session to confess. Why would anyone want their holiday to be an awkward cesspit of horrible? Noctis could only hope that Gladio's hana wasn't progressed enough for him to start choking in the middle of a movie. He still remembered, too intimately, that happening to Ignis. He could still feel the terror. He remembered the ambulance ride, because fuck you he wasn't waiting to know Ignis was still alive.

_Please_ let it not be like that.

Citadel work got out early on Daemon's Night. Most people had children who wanted to prowl about for free candy, and his father wasn't keen on keeping parents away from children. His father also wasn't keen on keeping him away from his friends, apparently, because he only demanded an hour of his time to talk before he smiled at him and sent him off. He was glad for it. He and Prom had plans, after all. Gladio and Ignis would be getting out of training in another hour, but now he and Prompto were going to go get their supplies.

He wore his plainest clothes and a hat so that he and Prompto could ride the subway down to Prompto's grocery store of choice where they picked out two large bags of candy and spent nearly fifteen minutes picking out movies from a little kiosk that Noctis had never noticed before but was apparently commonplace and had been there for years. "It's convenient," Prompto argued with him, as though he wasn't already sold.

"Definitely." See? Already sold.

Noctis put the candy and the movies in the armiger ("You would die if you didn't have that, wouldn't you?" "I mean, yeah, probably."), and they got back onto the subway to get pizza, which was thankfully a lot closer to their apartment building. "So let me get this straight: driving yourself is terrible, but dressing in plainclothes and getting on the subway is fine?"

"It's not fine, but it's neutral ground."

"What about the bus?"

"No. Never."

Prompto sighed. "I don't get it."

"I don't either. I just know that that's how it is." Noctis shrugged his shoulders. "So, changing subject completely; when are you gonna move your stuff into the apartment?"

"Why?"

"I wanna take the day off."

"You don't gotta do that." This time, Noctis rolled his eyes. This was an old song and dance for them.

"I wanna." Didn't Prompto know by now that Noctis didn't offer to do things like work unless he wanted to? Perhaps not - it was Prompto, and Prompto always wanted to make sure he wasn't imposing, even if they imposed on him.

Noctis had, for once, had the foresight to order ahead so getting pizza was very nearly a walk in, hand over money, get pizza, and walk out. It was a good thing, too, because it was almost time for the kids to get going, and Noctis didn't want to be anywhere outside his apartment once that got going. As it was, a couple of the children who lived in the building were going to come knocking, but Prompto or Gladio would probably answer the door. They both loved kids. Noctis was more neutral, and Ignis . . . well, Noctis didn't know. The thought kind of made him want to ask, but he didn't know how to ask without coming across as "Are you and Prompto gonna have kids?" Which was gross and not something he really wanted to ask about yet. He'd leave it alone. It wasn't important.

They'd gotten four pizzas, figuring that between the four of them they'd probably need four pizzas, if only because there was a 50/50 chance that Gladio would eat two by himself. It also made it easy to divide the pizzas between them (because you didn't put hot things in the armiger, they only came out cold). If they'd only gotten three, Prompto would have insisted on carrying two, and Noctis would have felt like a bad friend. He already did. A lot.

They joked and laughed all the way up to his apartment, but it stopped abruptly when they got inside. "Hey . . . what's going on?" It was honestly a pretty good question, and it took Noctis a moment to figure out the answer himself.

Even at a quick glance you knew something was wrong. His apartment, all cleaned and with even a few stray Daemon's Night decorations in it, was utterly quiet with Gladio sitting in a chair and Ignis sitting not far away on the couch. Not a problem. What was a problem was the air between them. Gladio seemed . . . deflated, almost scared, defensive even. Ignis was just furious.

When Noctis took a second glance, he realized there was a knife sitting on the couch. It was just chilling there, but Noctis knew it was one of Ignis' special knives. One of the ones he'd had made for himself after he'd passed his crownsguard certification. It was balanced perfectly and perfectly deadly. Why was it out?

The answer came to Noctis all at once. While he and Prompto had been out, Gladio had confessed to Ignis. That was probably bad enough. what was worse, what had probably drawn the knife out of the armiger, was the fact that Gladio had chosen to confess in a moment when Ignis was alone. Without Prompto. Oof.

Now they were all here, and when Noctis had said he wasn't touching this with a ten thousand foot pole, he'd fucking meant it. Nope. Absolutely not. He was out of here. One of his pizzas was dropped into Prompto's arms. "I am going into my room, and I am going to eat this whole damn pizza. You guys let me know when you're done talking."

"Noct! What's going on?!"

His legs felt as stiff as a cliche movie robot's as he marched straight for him room and closed the door. The pizza was dropped on his bed, and he went searching for his noise canceling headphones. Because he was not listening to any of this. No. Not. At. All.

All he could do was wait and hope his friends were all still going to be friends after this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Very Smart Commenter on the Very First Chapter: I wonder how Hanahaki will play into this story.  
Charmkeeper: It's a sequel, so it doesn't have to. o u o  
She said, like a LIAR.
> 
> Another Very Smart Commenter: Gladio needs to talk to them, he's gonna make himself sick!  
Us: *cackling gleefully* Oh, you have no idea how sick.
> 
> **Flower Thoughts:** We basically had Noctis hit the nail on the head for both violets for Ignis and morning glories for Prompto.  
Violets are, well, violet. But they're also a noble flower that symbolizes loyalty. You don't really get more Ignis than that.  
Prompto's is a bit more complex. We were looking more at how the flower blooms in sunlight and just how sunny Prompto is without going straight to sunflowers.  
We decided to add the Galahdian legend after Charmkeeper said that Prompto would probably call a morning glory a weed. We then decided it being a weed was a Lucian thought, and that it was an extremely romantic symbol to Galahd.


	8. Gladiolus

Gladio was stressed the fuck out. It had been bad enough when he was just surrounded by ridiculously hot people (seriously, was there something in the water?), worse when he’d really started to notice how sixdamn cute his friends were, but he hadn’t realized . . .

Was this how Iggy and Prom had felt? This was fucking awful. And he knew. They’d all seen it well enough. It would only get worse. Noct was right. He couldn’t fucking do this. Gladio couldn’t do it to himself – sure as fuck couldn’t compromise his duty in such a manner – and couldn’t do it to his friends. But confessing. Owning up to it.

Violets and morning glory. For fuck’s sake. Could he be any more fucking obvious? Ignis was going to _eviscerate_ him. Gods, Noct was so right. They were _happy_. They’d both known Ignis since they were kids, and Gladio had never seen him so happy. And Prom . . . well, Blondie deserved every bit of happiness he could get.

Gladio was going to fuck it all up, and he had no choice in the matter, never mind Princess’ one week ultimatum. Sure, Ignis probably wouldn’t _really_ stab him. Noctis needed a Shield, after all. But he was seriously struggling to come up with any way to approach this that wasn’t going to put one hell of a strain of the group dynamic, to say the least.

Noctis hadn’t believed him when he’d told him it was the first time. Of course he fucking hadn’t. After all, Ignis’d had the hana for weeks, if not months, before he’d been coughing up flowers. Gladio wasn’t sure, but he assumed Prompto’s hadn’t escalated as quickly, either. For fuck’s sake, Gladio hadn’t even realized what he was doing qualified as pining.

Apparently it fucking did. Hard to deny that after coughing flowers up on the training room floor. Flowers! In the plural. That shit was fucked up. Wasn’t there supposed to be some kind of upward curve on these things? That shit had escalated way too quickly.

Maybe it was different because it was two people? Or maybe it was because the feelings had been so sudden, so unexpected and strong. Hell, or maybe there was just more variables there than he knew. He wasn’t the expert. And he wasn’t too keen on consulting one, either. No hanahaki experts needed. He was going to confess, and that would be that.

The question was. . . _when_. Not that there was ever really a good time for this kind of thing, but right before a holiday? Seriously terrible timing. If this went badly (and he fully expected it to), it was going to ruin Daemon’s Night for years. Or maybe not _ruin_, depending on how badly it went, but the awkwardness would linger. Every fucking year. Assuming they were willing to talk to him again by then in anything but a professional capacity. Sixdamnit.

So before Daemon’s Night was a no. Maybe after? Or at least after their celebration? After princess fell asleep, maybe, since gods knew he always did first, despite the ungodly amount of sugar they were probably going to consume. He trusted their friendship enough to expect they’d be kind about it, though at least one of the two was sure to be deeply unamused by the circumstances. And then they all mostly had the next day off, right? Nothing major ever happened the day after a holiday. That would give them a little distance to get used to the idea, and him a little privacy to lick his wounds. Or cough up the last of what was already in him, he supposed. That was how it worked, apparently. Or at least it seemed to with Prom, though the blond had gotten a much better resolution that he was expecting.

Well. He supposed it wasn’t the _worst_ idea. He’d go with that, unless he thought of something better.

He did not think of anything better. No matter how much he obsessed over it – and _how_ he obsessed over it – he could not come up with a good time to have that conversation. There was no good time to have a bad conversation. And even just putting it off until after the holiday – sort of – was stressing him out. Probably wasn’t helping the whole situation at all, not to mention the part where he definitely couldn’t avoid the people he was pining for. That was the thing, right? The standard advice? Impossible. They were two of his best friends. And he fucking worked with them. Well, one of them, definitely. Technically, the other, if he was on babysitting duty. Because Princess and Prompto were practically attached at the hip. Fucking impossible.

Sunday was about the only day he could get away with it, if only because he spent the day with his sister, when they were both able to. It delighted Iris, of course, though she could easily sense that something was on his mind and hounded him about it the entire day. Not quite as bad, health wise, as actually spending the day with the two, but not exactly the restful day he needed.

Monday and Tuesday, though, not so much. Princess had meetings to go to, no matter how much he might wish otherwise, which meant Gladio had meetings to go to as well. And gods knew if Noct was going to be there, Ignis would be as well. So not much of a chance of avoiding him. And if he spent time around everyone but Prompto, Blondie was going to get the wrong idea. Gladio couldn’t stand to be that cruel.

Just three days. He could hold out for three days, surely. Ignis had hid it for way longer than that. Surely, if he was careful, he could manage three measly days.

Easier said than done. In just three days, he coughed up sixteen flowers, and six knows how he managed not to get caught with any of them. Now he just had to get through the next few hours. Maybe even have some fun in the meantime. It was Daemon’s Night, after all.

They were meeting up at Noctis’ apartment with Noct and Prompto meeting up ahead of time to pick up candy and pizza and Ignis and Gladio heading over after training, completely eliminating the time needed for Ignis to put together his own homemade treats. Not that he’d ever let that stop him. Knowing Ignis, he still something in mind, or at least had managed to put something together ahead of time. Because he totally had extra time in his schedule for this.

Sure enough, as soon as they stepped inside, Ignis made a beeline for the kitchen. Gladio was exactly zero percent surprised to see him pull a tray of chocolate bonbons and redistribute them into a large bowl. But he didn’t stop there. In short order he was juicing lemons and carefully cutting limes into delicate little slivers. It was about the time he traded the jar he’d been dropping the peels into for another of already candied, delicately twisted peels that Gladio realized the obvious: Ignis was prepping drinks, pulling as much together ahead of time to minimize disruption. That was . . . very Ignis. After all, it would make Noct happy if Ignis actually sat with them instead of getting up every fifteen minutes to refill someone’s drink or some other nonsense. And it wasn’t like Gladio hadn’t noticed how much more effort the two of them had been putting into their friendship since . . . Well.

Once the garnishes had been assembled, out came the liquor. Gladio chuckled appreciatively, lining the bottles up on the counter as Ignis pulled them out from where he’d stashed them. Clearly Princess hadn’t known they were up there, for how full they were. That was probably for the best. And in any case, this was the part of the spread he was more interested in. He liked a good mixed drink well enough, but truth be told, he wavered toward a good brew or just on the rocks. Though he wasn’t really that picky in general. As long as it didn’t have tequila in it. Gladio wasn’t sure he was ever willing to drink tequila again.

Speaking of. “Your favourite,” the brunet commented, placing the final bottle in front of him with a slight smirk. Jose Cuervo. He felt a little nauseous just looking at it.

“Hilarious.” He pushed the bottle away, trying for a frown but not quite holding the expression despite himself. It was weird that they could laugh about it now. That hadn’t been a very good memory for either of them, though on Iggy’s end, it was probably just another of a handful of times he’d had to pick him up from some ill-advised excursion. Gladio . . . well, even he knew he hadn’t always made the best choices, particularly in those first few years after he was legal.

Ignis chuckled. “In all seriousness, I acquired that cider you like.” And sure enough, there it was. Of course it was, and of course he had. Iggy was so good at taking care of people. He could only hope he’d gotten something he’d liked, too. Maybe some of those limited edition Ebony flavours, now that he’d had a taste. Six damn if he hadn’t, Gladio was going to make some appear in his office minifridge later.

So the cider was for him. Princess tended to go for something simple – rum and coke, usually – which meant all the extra frills were probably for Prompto. Maybe for that sugary lemon thing he liked. Because of course it was. Ignis was extra enough without it being for someone he was dating. Pull that into the equation, and well. Whole other level. Still. “That’s a lot of lime.”

“Ah, yes.” Ignis, the cocky bastard, merely arched a brow. “Something Noct wanted to try, though I suspect he’ll not wish to repeat the experiment.” After all, it was a lot of lime. And the prince wasn’t usually one to reach for fruity cocktails. Gladio suspected Blondie’s influence in there somewhere. “Which reminds me,” Ignis added thoughtfully. “I do need to double check the proportions. I believe I still have it bookmarked. . . “

Leaning against the counter, the brunet turned his attention to his phone, scrolling casually through it for a moment before stilling, lips pressing together momentarily before the cutest little snort of laughter slipped free. Grinning, he sidled up to lean next to the brunet, honestly a little surprised the other man didn’t tilt his phone away on reflex.

“25 BOO-zy Cocktails to Get You Turnt,” he read, then chuckled. BOO-zy? Really? That was all it took? Honestly, he shouldn’t even be surprised. “Why are you such a dork?” And why was it so fucking adorable?

Ignis stiffened, for a moment resembling a mesmenir in headlights as his head swiveled to stare at him openly. Then his eyes narrowed, his expression closed off, and he crossed his arms over his chest, everything about his posture reading as defensive.

Fucking shit. Had he. Had he said that last bit aloud?

“I don’t appreciate being mocked.” The words were clipped, as tense as the line of his posture, the tightness around those gorgeous seafoam eyes . . . but with an underlying tone of hurt he couldn’t quite miss.

Shit. Fucking shit. He's fucked up. He'd fucked up so sixdamn bad.

“Ignis, no!” He stepped forward, reaching, and the brunet stepped back, still glaring. Gladio let his hands drop, shoulders slouching in a subconscious attempt to not appear intimidating. “I wouldn’t . . . I would _never_.” Tease him, absolutely. But seriously make fun of him? Not in a million years. Hell, Gladio had grown up seeing his friend go through that shit, and he’d hated it all the while. More than once Ignis himself had stopped him from punching someone’s face in over it, too. How could he possibly think . . . ?

“I really like you.” The brunet’s jaw flexed at the statement. Gladio was definitely not helping his case. Shit. He was really going to have to fucking do this now. This wasn’t what he’d planned at all. He definitely didn’t want to tell him like this, but he couldn’t just leave one of his oldest friends thinking he would make fun of him like this. Fucking shit. Seriously.

“I have hanahaki,” he blurted, immediately wanting to facepalm when Ignis rocked back like he’d been struck. Shit, no. That wasn’t. How he wanted to lead into that. Fuck. Well. You only live once. “For you. And Prompto. Both of you.” Fucking shit. He needed to sit down. This was way too fucking stressful. “I was going to . . . “ He took a deep breath. Swallowed. Did it matter? This was awful. No wonder they’d never willingly confessed before. He felt like he was going to have a cardiac event. In fact, in the long silence that followed, he was near sure of it.

“What the actual fuck, Gladiolus.” It took him a moment to realize the flush across the brunet’s cheeks wasn’t the blush he might have hoped for in circumstances such as these, but rather, sheer, unfiltered rage. Ignis was _furious_. And Gladio was boned. And not in the fun way. “For how long? And why the bloody hell would you think it was a good idea to tell just me?” Not, _how dare you_, which, he supposed, was something. Better than he expected, maybe. But the tone of his hopefully-still-friend’s voice was not promising, and he didn’t like the way his hands kept flexing. Unsurprisingly, this was not going to end well for him.

Ignis took a deep breath, though judging by his body language, it didn’t seem to be helping much. A flash of crystalline blue, and those elegant fingers were no longer flexing on air. That. That sure seemed to help. Him at least. Gladio was definitely not feeling better at this development.

“Hey, Iggy.” The brunet’s eyes narrowed further, and Gladio took a step back. “You know all those comments about stabbing people were just jokes, right?” Or at least they were jokes when Gladio said them. Probably. Maybe he was going to find out.

“_Sit down._”

Well, Gladio wasn’t going to argue with that. His butt hit the couch so fast you’d think he’d been trained for it. Stifling a cough against his fist as he waited. Ignis moved slower, with deliberation, not even setting his dagger aside as he neatly put everything away. It seemed to have a soothing effect on him. As soothing as anything could be, under the circumstances. Shit.

After everything had been tucked away, Ignis joined in him in the living area, choosing to perch on the edge of Noct’s favourite arm chair instead of joining him on the couch. Ouch. But before Gladio could speak up and shove his own foot further down his throat, a familiar _bzzszrt_ broke the silence and Ignis pulled out his phone. He frowned at the device a moment, then tucked it back in his pocket.

“Noctis and Prompto will arrive shortly,” he explained cooly. “We can discuss the matter then.”

And swear to all six of the gods, waiting was the longest twenty minutes of Gladio’s life.

Noctis and Prompto stepped inside, pizzas in hand and still laughing, but the sound abruptly halted as they took in the mood of the apartment. One look at the prince’s face, and Ignis must have known. Noct knew. Noct obviously knew, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. He took one look at them sitting there, practically threw a pizza at Prompto, and noped right on out to his bedroom. And judging by the look on Ignis’ face, he hadn’t missed that revelation at all.

“Guys?” Gladio hated how nervous the blond sounded. Hated that he had directly been the cause of putting that there. He’d had a fucking plan. Why couldn’t he have just stuck to the plan?!

“Darling.” The brunet’s voice softened on the word, and that. That was something, at least. “Gladiolus has something he needs to discuss with us.” Gladio winced. Ignis hadn’t called him by his full name since they were kids. Not unless he was on his shit list, anyway.

“What’s going on?” The blond moved to sit next to his boyfriend, gingerly moving the knife aside to perch flush against Ignis’ side. It didn’t exactly make Gladio feel more at ease. After all, Ignis had two of those.

“Gladio?” They were both staring expectantly at him now – one anxiously, and the other with a distinct air of menace. Nothing for it but to be blunt, he supposed. Oh boy, here we go. Time for round two.

“I have hanahaki.” Couldn’t get much blunter than that, right? “For you. Both of you. I’ve only known a few days.” Obviously he’d known they were fucking cute a hell of a lot longer, but as far as the hana went, sure, a few days was accurate enough.

“What?” Gladio didn’t know what exactly he’d expected from the blond, but it wasn’t blatant disbelief. “Really?” Ignis’ sigh, soft as it was, was entirely predictable. Gladio watched as the brunet tucked an arm around the blond, thumb rubbing against his bicep absentmindedly, and fought the urge to cough as it tickled this throat.

“Yes, really,” he agreed. Paused. Cleared his throat. Please, let that be enough. “For both of you. Together.” Cleared his throat again. “Look, I know there’s not a chance on Eos, but – “

“I wouldn’t say that big guy.” Wait what. Judging by the sudden silence, he wasn’t the only one in shock. Hell, even Prom was looking pretty pale. And Ignis looked like all the wind had blown out of his sails. Just like that, the fury was gone.

“. . . Prompto?” Gladio hated the note of uncertainty in the Ignis' voice.

“I mean.” The blond’s voice had shot up an octave, his expression something close to panic. “It’s not like I never thought about it! Look at him!” He gave a soft whine, sort of vaguely gesturing to . . . all of him. Gladio couldn’t quite hold back a snort. “I’d be open to it. But only. Only if you were, too.” The blond wasn’t meeting anyone’s eyes at this point. That was fair. Gladio knew what it felt like to blurt things out when you didn’t mean to. Obviously. “It’s both of us or nothing.”

And then they were both staring at Ignis, waiting, and the poor man looked so . . . overwhelmed. It was . . . almost scary, on him. Ignis was always the man with the plan. He wasn't supposed to not know what to do.

“I . . .” Ignis started. Stopped. Frowned. The silence stretched.

“Ignis?” he tried after an uncomfortably long minute. “Do you need some time?” That was fair, right? And time to process was probably better than an outright refusal as far as his chances went. Though maybe not. Ignis Scientia could talk himself out of anything, as past experience seemed to indicate.

“I. . .” This was it. They’d broken him. Fuck. Why couldn’t he have just stuck to the plan?!

Yet. There was something familiar about the furrow of his brow, the flush across his cheeks, the way his gaze lowered, his lips pressing together. It took him a long moment to realize it, but he’d seen this expression before. Just. Never directed at him.

“Hey Iggy,” he said carefully. “You know I’ve always thought you were cute, right?”

The brunet’s attention jerked up with an indelicate (adorable!) snort. “That’s a blatant lie,” he snapped, but it came with eye contact, and Gladio would take that.

“No, really, you remember that kid? What was his name? Percy?” He wasn’t sure that was right, but boy did Ignis’ expression tell him he knew exactly what he was talking about. “Even before I realized what was going on, you were so damn cute working yourself up to talking to him. I wanted to kill that little shit.” Though now that Gladio thought about it, he wanted to hit most of the boys Ignis had liked over the years. It would be telling if it weren’t so damn justified. Really, it was a damn act of the gods, probably, that he’d ended up with someone as nice as Prompto. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to say that. The goal was to figure out if he was reading this right. Not to _actually get stabbed_.

“Ridiculous,” Ignis scoffed, but there was the nicest flush of colour across his cheekbones. Score. 

“Oh, I did. I wasn’t thinking of you like this before, but you were always cute.” Hell, they were all cute. Ignis was cute as hell. Or a lot more than that, when he was being scary. He’d thought Prompto, with all his freckles and enthusiasm, was absolutely charming on sight, even if he hadn’t trusted it at first. Even Noct was gorgeous, though thinking about it in those terms was just . . . weird. Better to just shake his head at ‘those damn Lucis-Caelum genes.’

“Man.” He leaned closer, stretching forward to rest his elbows against his knees. “All the times I caught you sleeping at your desk over the years. You were always cute as hell when you let your guard down.” Kind of like he was trying real hard not to do right now. But Gladio knew he had him. He was pretty sure, anyway. “This,” he added softly, one hand coming up to tap against his chest, “is new, but everything else? That was all already there.” And may he remember that if he shot him down. He wanted to try, yes, of course he did. Obviously he did, or he wouldn’t be in this predicament in the first place. But not at the cost of a lifetime of friendship. And yet.

“Look, I get it.” He managed a smile for both of them, though it wasn’t exactly a happy one. He knew the most likely outcome was not a great one for him, regardless of whether they truly entertained the thought. Gladio and long-term relationships. Well. He didn’t exactly have a great track record, now did he? “You’re happy with the way things are now.” Gods only knew the last time he’d seen Ignis smile so much. Maybe never. By the time Gladio had really gotten to know the brunet, he’d been too serious . . . though by all accounts, he’d always been a serious kid, even in happier times. He shifted to sit on the floor, looking up at where the two were pressed together across from him. He wasn’t being very subtle about moving closer, but hey, no one had run away (or kicked him the face) yet. “But can you really tell me, all these years, you never thought about it?”

“Of course, I’ve bloody well thought about it!” The brunet shifted uncomfortably, and Gladio risked a glance at Prompto, who had fallen silent for the bulk of the conversation. He gave a small nod when their eyes met, and Gladio smiled. He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly . . . fair. Ignis had a hard time being pressed like this, at least when it came interpersonal matters. But he also knew. If Ignis gave himself time to think, he would _not_ give himself time to feel. Wasn’t that, essentially, what he’d done with Prompto in the first place? “Half the citadel has thought about it, Gladio. You’ve likely spent more of your life with your shirt off than on, by now.”

Gladio grinned. That sounded like progress, though. He wasn’t denying it. There was no ‘but.’ And it was an awful lot of dodging from someone who liked to remind him, when he was irritated, that ‘no’ was a full and complete answer. Plus he’d dropped the full name treatment. He had to go for it now or he’d never fucking know for sure. He leaned forward, bracing one hand on the armrest on the brunet’s left, his right hand resting where the two’s thighs pressed together, hand flexing in a light squeeze as his gaze momentarily shifted again to the blond to gauge his reaction, then back again to the brunet.

He was close enough to see the faint scarring across Iggy’s cheeks from his less-than-graceful teenage years. Close enough to see the sliver of green around his dilated eyes. Close enough to hear the soft stutter of breath when he leaned those last few inches to press their lips together. The kiss remained chaste, little more than a simple press of lips, but before he pulled away, he felt a hand slide up his arm to brace against his shoulder. Once separated, Gladio waited expectantly for the brunet’s – for either of their reactions.

Ignis blinked once, twice, then a hand shot out to catch the blond’s. His lips parted slightly, then pressed together a moment before he managed to speak. “Is this okay?” The words were painfully uncertain.

“Y-yeah!” Prompto head jerked in a nod, quick to reassure his boyfriend that he was still on board. Though he didn’t look completely convinced himself. He looked pretty damn uneasy, to be frank. Worried. And knowing Prompto . . .

“Hey.” Gladio kept his voice soft as he turned his full attention on the blond, shifting to lean closer to him. “What do you say, sunshine?” He grinned, then pursed his lips in a kissing motion. Heck yeah, he wanted to kiss Prompto, too. He wanted to kiss them both. As often as possible, preferably.

“_Gladiooooooo_.” Prom shoved at his shoulder, and he couldn’t help but laugh at his bashful expression. Gladio wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone go red that fast before.

“No?” He leaned forward to peck a quick kiss on the blond’s nose, his grin widening as the blond squirmed. “Not here?” A kiss on the forehead. A kiss on the cheek. “Or here?” A kiss on the hand, then up one freckled wrist as the blond started to giggle. One final peck on his nose where he started, and he pulled away, expression serious once more.

“It’s as you said, Prom. Both of you or nothing.”

Prompto’s lips curved in a tentative smile, and after a moment, ever so slowly, he leaned forward to press their lips together. Gladio smiled into the kiss, hand sliding up rub up and down the blond’s arm as the kiss deepened. They kept it brief, however, pulling away and sharing a mutually pleased smile before, as though synchronized, turning to look at the third person in their little . . . trio? Relationship? Fucking shit, was this really happening?

And Ignis, watching, just looked . . . so incredibly fond. It was surreal. It was. Fucking shit. This really was happening. This was. He couldn’t believe. Maybe. Just maybe, somehow, this all might just work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse me, sir, that’s my emotional support knife.


	9. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my name is Charmkeeper, and I can't write a single chapter for this story that's less than 5000 words, and we're now getting closer to 10,000 words. I think I need help.

Prompto felt like he'd had a good week. Sure, it had toppled his whole life up upon its head, but it was good. He'd spent time with his parents, his parents had met Ignis (and it hadn't gone terribly!). That was followed by his boyfriend asking him to move in with him. It was all super great, but a few days in now Prompto had to say the prospect of moving into Ignis' place with him was . . . nerve wracking. He knew Ignis didn't intend for there to be any pressure on him. He hadn't done this in a big showy display in front of everyone they knew like some assholes did when proposing to their significant others.

Prompto had been - _was_ \- happy to say yes. There were a lot of things that just made sense about it, including even the fact that it was, technically, closer to work. It was closer to everything in his life, except his parents themselves, and judging by the way his mother had made happy noises and hugged him when he'd told her, well, they didn't mind either.

The nerve wracking part came in two bits. The first was simply the future. When they broke up. Because they would. Eventually. Break up. It would be his fault, of course, he'd never love anyone the same way again, but they would break up. It was inevitable. They were both so young for starters, relationships that started when one was still in high school almost never lasted. He wasn't stupid, he knew that. People weren't totally who they were going to be in high school. Ignis was mature and had probably been who he was forever now, but Prompto? Prompto was probably a different person every other week. Someday Ignis was going to realize they didn't match anymore. Facts.

The answer to that kind of lay in the other bit. When Prompto had mentioned that he'd probably need a mover to move his bed and dresser... well Ignis had made this really offended noise and had said with fury in this eyes, "And just what is wrong with you sleeping in my bed?" And well, that had answered that. His childhood bed would stay in his childhood home. That meant that when the inevitable arrived, he'd go back, at least for a little while. His parents wouldn't mind. He was pretty sure they had been pretty okay with the idea of him staying forever. With all their traveling, they knew a lot of people, but they didn't have a lot of people in their lives. He was pretty sure they were okay with him being a near constant.

He was probably still going to need a mover. He did have a dresser to move, though Noctis also said Gladio had a truck. Prompto had never seen said truck, but if that were true (and why the fuck would Noctis lie to him about that?), maybe he could get Gladio to come help for a couple of hours. Just to move the couple of bigger things. The trouble was really that Prompto didn't want to impose. He was already working on bringing some things over, like clothes and other soft or light things, but he just couldn't put his whole dresser in a dufflebag and carry it two sectors over. He was just going to have to work his way up to asking Gladio for a favor.

That was stressful, and that on top of Noctis continuing to offer his help was worse, because Noctis had ten thousand better things to do. Well. Gladio did, too. And Ignis. Maybe he'd just leave it for a while. It wasn't like his stuff was going anywhere. He wasn't being evicted.

It was certainly going to wait until at least after Daemon's Night. It wasn't a Friday night, but they were all going to get together and watch horror movies and eat terrible junk food, and while Prompto knew that he was a wuss about horror movies, it was going to be a fun time. He and Noctis were in charge of pizza, movies, and candy. That was simple enough. Go to the store. Get candy. Rent movies. Pick up pizza on the way back. With any luck, by the time they returned, Ignis and Gladio would be ready to sit in front of the screen for a good six hours. It really was kind of that simple.

And then they actually got back to Noctis' apartment, and things were definitely not that simple anymore. Prompto had no idea what was going on, but they walked into the apartment to find Gladio and Ignis sitting, and something was clearly wrong. There was a knife next to Ignis. Definitely something wrong, and Noctis apparently knew what it was, because before his brain could even catch up, Noctis was throwing one his pizzas at him and going off to his bedroom. What?!

"Guys?" He managed to get out after Noctis was gone, hating how terrified he sounded. Why couldn't he at least pretend he was braver than this?

"Darling," Ignis answered him, and Prompto breathed. If petnames were still in the picture, Ignis probably wasn't pissed off at him. "Gladiolus has something he needs to discuss with us." Oh, man. Prompto couldn't even imagine what could have had Ignis so angry that he was using Gladio's full name that also needed to be discussed with him. He was still filled with terror, but it had softened enough that a trickle of curiosity was there, too.

"What's going on?" Prompto moved, very deliberately moving the knife away from Ignis' side before he sat down. The knife was heavy in his hand. It probably felt really light to Ignis. That was just the way it went when you trained to be a badass, Prompto supposed. He sat. He sat so close to Ignis that their legs pressed together, and he hoped that in some small way that helped Ignis calm down.

He didn't want to witness a murder.

"Gladio?" he prompted, and what came out of Gladio's mouth next was . . . shocking to say the least.

"I have hanahaki." The words weren't just a punch to his stomach; they were a blow to his head, too. He opened his mouth to give some sort of cry out, but then Gladio kept going, and the blows doubled. "For you. Both of you. I've only known for a few days." The last bit of that was lost in the tornado of wind that had opened up inside Prompto's brain. It spun round and round, jumbling literally everything. If the contents of his mind was a filing cabinet they were now lost in the vortex, perhaps never to be found.

Out of his mouth tumbled the only words that would come. "What?" What the hell kind of alternate reality had he stumbled into? "Really?" If this was a joke, it wasn't funny.

Beside him, Ignis sighed, and he distantly felt his arm wrap around him. He felt his thumb rub circles into one of his freckles. He knew that was a freckle spot. Ignis always went for freckle spots. It wasn't helping.

"Yes, really." Gladio coughed. It was more a clearing of the throat really, but when the word hanahaki was in play every little chuff was a loud hacking thing. "For both of you. Together." There was another cough that made Prompto want to rip off his ears. He sounded so miserable. So sad. Hadn't he looked sad lately, too? Prompto knew that he'd noticed it. He'd pushed it off as nothing, and now look! Look what had happened! "Look, I know there's not a chance on Eos--"

"I wouldn't say that, Big Guy." He'd been so focused on making sure that Gladio didn't feel hopeless. He'd been so focused on not wanting Gladio to feel like that - to feel as he had in those weeks last December. Hopeless. Drifting. Dead. He'd hated the thought of Gladio feeling that way (Gladio! Tall, dark, and handsome Gladio who had a different woman on his arm every week!) that the words had poured from his mouth without thought. Like an idiot. He always did this! Not only that, but his own boyfriend was right here! They weren't one person!

The silence that followed his statement was so tense he could pop it with a pen. He couldn't look at anyone now. Not even the floor was worthy of his gaze. Why did he keep doing this? Blurting out shit that he should never say? Now Ignis was going to break up with him too, and he'd just agreed to move in. Oh gods, he was going to have to call his parents--

" . . . Prompto?"

Great. His boyfriend sounded hurt and upset. Definitely gonna break up with him, and that question was definitely asking for an explanation, so now he had to open his mouth again and make it all worse! Why did Ramuh never smite him when he asked? "I mean." Oh yeah, there was the panic in his voice. Maybe if he got high enough, his voicebox would explode and that would kill him. That'd be fine. "It's not like I never thought about it!" He'd thought about Gladio way before Ignis after all. They'd both hated him at first, but Gladio had softened much quicker. They'd been friends much quicker. He'd known it would never happen. Gladio was straighter than straight and the most ideal looking guy on the face of the planet. Gladio would never look at him. Except apparently when he was with Ignis.

He rounded that statement off with a gesture in Gladio's direction that definitely involved not actually looking at him. That got a snort from Gladio. Yes. Please. Laugh at him. He was definitely a laughing stock. Deep breath, more damning words that he somehow foolishly hoped would make it clear he didn't want to leave Ignis. At all. Ever. "I'd be open to it. But only. Only if you were, too. It's both of us or nothing." Please don't break up with me. That was the hopeful message.

He braved a glance at Ignis and found that he couldn't look away. He looked so . . . small. So helpless. Yeah. Prompto was definitely going to be single tonight. Again. Probably forever. "I . . ." Ignis' voice drifted off. Why wasn't he just saying it? No. And no to you, too. Simple words for someone who spent whole afternoons locked in rooms with politicians.

"Ignis? Do you need some time?" Time was the last thing Prompto wanted to offer Ignis right now. He knew what was coming. Let's just get it over with.

"I . . ." Please, just let the torture end.

"Hey, Iggy. You know I've always thought you were cute, right?"

"That's a blatant lie," Ignis snapped back at him.

Nope. The torture wasn't ending any time soon, it seemed, and Prompto was then subjected to Gladio trying to convince Ignis that yes indeed he'd always thought he was cute. That ended with Ignis finally snapping at Gladio in turn, and Prompto just wanted to scream.

And then they kissed. It wasn't immediate. Gladio had to get up. He had to place himself - brace himself, which included one hand pressing against his own leg thank you very much. They kissed, and it was hot, even though it wasn't really all that much. No tongue, just a normal kiss. And yet. It was hot, way too hot. It was too much. It felt like he was going to explode, and melt, and die all at once. A pool of energy settled inside his chest and the down to his legs and he knew in about two seconds he was going to run.

Running was going to take him out the door, down the stairs, out of the building, and probably all the way back down to his childhood home before it faded and he could think rationally again. By that time the whole thing that they had just very tentatively built would have crashed down, and Gladio's hana would probably get worse, and Ignis might still break up with him, and -- oh sweet six, he was just making it worse.

When Gladio and Ignis parted, the nervous energy, the desire to bolt, reached a head. Sure, Gladio's hand was still braced on his leg, but if he sat up with enough force, Gladio would probablybe shocked into moving it. Then he could just go and never come back at all if his anxiety had anything to say about it.

His escape was thoroughly thwarted when Ignis' hand struck out like a snake's, catching his own. "Is this okay?" He sounded just as unsure as Prompto felt, and the very use of the word okay felt wrong from Ignis.

"Y-yeah!" Prompto managed to get out after about ten mental attempts at the word. It was fine, peachy, cool, great. Nothing was wrong. He wasn't freaking out. He wasn't about to go run for fifteen miles. No. Not at all.

"Hey," Gladio's voice drew his eye away from Ignis, and it just felt like he had too many places to look right now. Just. Too. Damn. Many. Gladio was even closer to him now. When had he moved? "What do you say, sunshine?" Sunshine. Because of his hair. How original. He had just the emotional range to mentally, if not physically, snort in indignation before Gladio made childish kissy faces at him. Prompto felt his face heat up like he'd gone for a run at noon in July.

"Gladiooooooo," he whined, shoving at his shoulder.

"No?" Gladio teased, leaning forward to kiss him, not on his mouth, but on his nose. Prompto squirmed. He wasn't liking the teasing, yet he knew what Gladio was doing, and by the time Gladio had lifted up his hand to kiss his fucking wrist it was working. "Or here?" Prompto giggled, he couldn't help it. That tickled. He kissed his nose again, and when he pulled back his expression was serious. "It's as you said, Prom. Both of you or nothing."

Well. What was he supposed to say to that? It was always nice to feel wanted, even if it wasn't something he could completely believe in. Words couldn't encompass that, though, and he suspected his mouth wouldn't form them if he tried anyway. What he offered instead was a smile he wasn't sure was entirely genuine, and then, after about aborting and restarting the objective about ten times, he leaned forward and a little bit up to kiss Gladio. Gladio kissed back with absolutely zero hesitation, and it was so . . . different.

Ignis was bigger than him, but Gladio was maybe the largest person he'd ever been around. Gladio practically engulfed him simply with kissing, and he wasn't just kissing him, he was rubbing his arm too. It felt like almost too much, yet it also felt good. It felt right in a completely different way than Ignis felt right, but Prompto counted even that as a good thing. Why would he ever want kissing Gladio to feel the same as kissing Ignis? He wouldn't. He absolutely wouldn't.

He could feel Gladio smile into the kiss, and then pull away entirely too quickly afterward. Prompto was smiling too, and when he looked at Ignis, he found that even he was smiling, in that more subtle way he did sometimes in the morning after he'd spent the night. That was when Prompto really knew that this was going to be okay, and his nerves finally settled down.

After a few moments, Gladio pulled away, and Prompto instantly began the tremendous effort of getting up. "I should go get Noct out of his prison." Because if Noctis had known, and Prompto had zero doubt after that reaction that he had, not knowing was probably literal torture. "And then we can actually start Daemon's Night stuff."

"A moment before that, Darling." Ignis' hand grazed his shoulder, and Prompto went all but boneless in the chair. "We should decide the next step to take before anything else."

That was . . . probably a good idea, but where did they go from here except for "dates?"

Ignis smiled just a little wider. "I was thinking the same, but I did also have the additional thought that perhaps we should rotate them?"

"What do you mean?" Prompto's eye was drawn back up to Gladio, and he tried very hard to not focus on those lips he'd just been kissing. "Rotate?"

"The planning, I mean. Prompto plans one, you plan one, and then I plan one, and so on. So no one of us is doing it more often than another. At least at first." Careful. Ignis was trying to be careful here, which was a good idea. Ignis never really had anything but good ideas. Not only would this relationship be new, but it was awkward because there were three of them, another person to try and make equal, which might be difficult especially considering how long Ignis and Prompto had already been together, and . . . yeah. It was a good idea to maybe just have dates for a little while and for those dates to rotate between them.

"I'm down."

"Seems fair," Gladio said with a shrug, and then those eyes turned back to him. "Are you okay with the order? You going first?"

"Yeah," Prompto said with a sigh after a moment. No. Not really. He was never okay with responsibility. He wasn't good with it, but it didn't really matter if he was first, his turn would come up soon enough. "It'll probably just be dinner, so, you know, nice and simple first?"

"Sounds good to me."

"Lovely. Shall we set a date for Saturday, then? We're all off in the evening."

"Just text me the location when you decide, okay?"

"Will do, Big Guy." There was a one-two-three of awkward silence before Prompto piped up to fill the void again. "Should I go get Noct now?"

"Please do."

Prompto got up, and he felt Ignis get up immediately after him. Right. Ignis had probably been doing something in the kitchen before this, and now they had pizza that Prompto was totally okay eating cold but Ignis probably wasn't. That would leave only Gladio without a job. Hmm. "Noct put the movies in the armiger. You can get them out, right?" Because Prompto definitely couldn't. "Set it up?"

When he looked back at Gladio, he caught the barest bit of relief on his face before he got the full force of a smile and a nod. "Yeah, I'll get that."

"Cool."

Prompto knocked on Noctis' bedroom door. He got no answer. When he didn't get an answer after even a second knock, he dared to open the door just a little. "You didn't fall asleep in there, did you? Because if you did, I'm gonna have no choice but to get Iggy in here." He was pretty sure Ignis was the only one who had mastered the art of waking Noctis up. There was no need for Ignis, though, because when he opened the door a little wider, he found Noctis sitting there, pulling off almost ridiculously large headphones.

"Is everything okay?" His voice was all but squeaking in panic, and, oof, that hit Prompto right in the feels.

He offered Noctis his best smile. "Yeah, dude. Everything's good."

"You mean it?"

"Yep! We're gonna give dating Gladio a spin and get rid of that hana all in one." Noctis' shoulders sagged in relief, and Prompto decided right then and there that that was enough emotional turmoil for one night. "You ready for some cheesy pizza and even cheesier horror?"

Noctis nodded, the motion still a little too shy for Prompto's liking. "Yeah. Let's do this." That was going to have to be good enough, Prompto supposed.

It wasn't until much, much later up in their (their, even thinking it was theirs was weird) apartment with Ignis asleep in his arms that Prompto was really able to let his mind wander again. While lying there with his boyfriend in his arms was grounding, the very thought that he now had another boyfriend was ungrounding, weird, and new. Sleep and time would probably make it feel fine again, but right then it felt very unnerving, even if he felt like it would work out one way or another long term.

And then there was the fact that he had to choose their first date. He'd said just like dinner, but where? There was no way he was letting Ignis anywhere near a place where he could cook, but he also didn't want to just take them somewhere normal either. Yep, just keep it simple. Crow's Nest it was.

Prompto barely stopped himself from snorting into Ignis' hair at the thought. Ignis hadn't broken up with him tonight, but he if made their first date with Gladio a Crow's Nest visit, he definitely would.

Prompto knew he was boring, and poor, and hadn't been to many nice, fun, exciting restaurants as both Ignis and Gladio surely had been, so thinking about it was hard. He wanted them to have a nice simple date, but not boring. Where could he take them that they'd be able to try something they maybe had never had before? Gladio was half Galahdian, if he remembered the one comment in passing that Noctis had once made, so Gladio probably knew that cuisine as well as a native. Ventus was from Tenebrae, and he knew the royal family had visited many times in their lifetimes, so they'd both know that well. As for Altissian. Well. Everyone knew Altissian, good and bad.

All at once the answer became clear. It was risky, they might not like it, but it was an answer. With an answer, Prompto was finally able to fall asleep.

At the end of his shift the next day, Prompto pulled up directions to the Snow Maiden's Tears Eatery and sent it off to Gladio, who only sent him a thumbs up in return. Prompto smiled. He must have been busy with cadets. It seemed like he usually was these days. He only told Ignis where they were going when they were getting into his car to actually go. "What is that? The cuisine?"

"It's. Ah." Prompto sunk as far into his seat as he could, which was farther than he thought he could, considering he was wearing a seatbelt. "It's Pusciellian."

Ignis didn't respond until they were out on the road, a deceptive tactic that had lulled Prompto into a sense that maybe he wouldn't have to explain at all, but then it came. "Isn't Pusciello a region in Niflheim?"

"Yeah. It is." If it were possible Prompto sunk down further into his seat. He wasn't expecting the words he got next.

"How delightful. I've never had the opportunity to try that variety of cuisine before."

"I hope you like it."

A hand reached over the console and patted his knee. "I'm sure I will."

They arrived at the restaurant without any troubles. Prompto sighed to see the old faded artwork of what Prompto assumed to be a classical rendition of the crying snow maiden was still there. In the early evening darkness the light behind the sign flickered a little. He was pretty sure it had been doing that last time he'd come here to eat over a year earlier.

Before he could even open his mouth, a hand caught his elbow, and Prompto looked up at Ignis' smiling face. "Don't worry. I'm not judging the book by its cover."

"Okay," Prompto whispered softly as they made their way inside.

The Snow Maiden's Tears was mostly empty at the best of times, but tonight it seemed completely empty. The way all the tables, though old and dated, were thoroughly clean suggested they might have been the first customers in hours. One might think that there would be an eager host or hostess waiting to seat them, but instead the sign at the front told them to seat themselves. They picked a booth by the window, and while Ignis began to read through a menu that depicted the same faded artwork as the sign, Prompto pulled out his phone.

"Gladio says he'll be here in ten minutes tops."

"That should work out nicely," Ignis said as he turned the menu over to the back. "I may well need that long to just settle on an appetizer." A moment later, he sighed in disappointment. "Shame that all their specialty drinks drinks are alcoholic."

"I'm sure you could probably get them virgin."

"Perhaps," Ignis admitted, "but it's never quite the same."

A couple minutes later, a bubbly platinum blonde woman popped up from out of the back to get their drink order. Prompto just got water. Ignis opted for their house blend of coffee - black. "We'll have a third man coming in a few minutes. He'll want a water as well." If their waitress thought that was weird, she didn't show it at all and disappeared back into the kitchens.

Prompto spent the next couple of minutes watching Ignis read and reread just the appetizer section. Compared to the displeasure he'd really kind of been expecting, the eagerness to try everything was both a great relief and incredibly adorable. After that couple of minutes, though, Prompto was worried that Ignis really wasn't going to be able to settle on anything, so he had been ready to open his mouth and suggest that they wait for Gladio, but perhaps just order all the appetizers and then, maybe in the near future, come back and try an assortment of main courses.

He'd been about to be really eloquent about it, too. He hadn't been going to stutter, he hadn't been going to trip over his words, they had been going to come out nice and smooth . . . and then the kitchen door banged open. He'd been expecting their waitress to come out, but instead out came a man in what was easily the gaudiest suit he'd ever seen with hair such a pale blond that Prompto was fairly sure it was one shade off of white. On top of everything else, he seemed really, really annoyed about something. Prompto chose to let him walk by their table before he turned his attention back to Ignis.

He opened his mouth again only to notice that Ignis wasn't paying any attention to him or the menu anymore. He had that look on his face that he did when something didn't quite go right with a recipe. It was that look that spurred on Prompto's next words. "What's wrong?"

"You remain seated, Prompto. No matter what."

"Why? What's--"

"I know you."

Gaudy suit man was back. He stood behind the nearest table, as though the table itself were a sufficient barrier between them. Prompto now knew why Ignis had told him to stay seated. The look on his face was nothing but pure trouble and danger. "I assure you," Ignis said softly, carefully. "That I do not know you."

The man gave out a brief, harsh laugh, "Hey!" He yelled toward the kitchen doors. "Get your asses out here! We got a situation!" The door slammed open again, and five or six men piled out of the kitchen into the dining area. Ignis, despite telling Prompto to, did not remain seated. He got up, his back very clearly shielding Prompto from the majority of the men's views. Protecting him, Prompto realized with a drop of his stomach. He'd gotten up to protect him.

"Lookit this! They're sending royal attendants to spy on us now. Like we don't watch the news."

Spy? Why would they need to spy on them? This was just a restaurant! And, geez, you needed to be paying pretty close attention to news broadcasts to catch Ignis in them. So far as Prompto had ever been able to tell, Ignis only showed up on the news when Noctis made statements, which was honestly pretty rare in and of itself. Even then, he was a background figure. He blended in very well with the rest of the congregation, when he wanted to. In that sort of way Ignis both was and was not a public figure. Though both handsome and beautiful enough to be an actress or model, Ignis was much more of a director. Prompto was sure most people would say Ignis looked a bit familiar, but they probably wouldn't be able to place him. Prompto knew that if he didn't know them all personally, he definitely wouldn't.

These men were definitely looking, but why?

"I know you probably think I'm here to expose whatever it is that's going on behind the scenes." Did Ignis know? Did Ignis have an idea? "But I assure you, we're just here for dinner."

"And you really expect us to just believe that?"

"I certainly hope so, considering that it's the truth." Ignis shifted a little bit, and his view of the men was limited even further Prompto knew Ignis had decided to shift to shield him further. "I had no idea this place even existed until my companion suggested it for dinner this evening, and since we are clearly undesirable patrons, I assure you that if you will just let us leave peacefully, you'll never see either of us, or anyone connected with us, again. I promise you this."

All of the men started talking very quickly with one another in a language that Prompto was pretty sure was Niflheimian, perhaps even the dialect specific to Pusciello. It was all very loud and very angry, but Prompto somehow had the distinct impression that they were really considering it. Prompto thought maybe, just maybe, they'd get out of this unscathed.

And then Gladio walked in the front door.

These guys knew who Ignis was. There was no way they didn't know who Gladio was. No. Fucking. Way. For one terrifyingly long moment, there was silence in the whole restaurant, and then there was was a very loud thunk, and Ignis collapsed like a tower of cards.

Though Gladio would later tell him that it was only about three minutes, Prompto would really have no idea how long he himself was out of it for. All he would know was that after watching Ignis crumple like a ragdoll, there was no more fear whatsoever. It was replaced with a white hot rage, and the next thing he was truly aware of was Gladio's arms around his waist, pulling him, and his own screeching of "Let me go, Gladio!"

"You're going to kill him if I let you keep going, babe."

That was when Prompto really came back to himself, and he realized that he had in fact been on top of a guy who was definitely not conscious anymore and definitely had a very bloody face. He wasn't even the only one. There were two other men, both larger, and yet they were both out like lights. "Did . . . you . . . ?"

"Me? No. That's all you. All. You."

Prompto stopped fighting Gladio's hold then.

With all the fight drained out of him, Gladio carefully sat back in the booth, Prompto held securely in his lap. The remaining men had backed up against the wall, and with them sitting, one of them reached for a pocket.

"I wouldn't. I can totally let him go again."

Apparently that was a decent enough of a threat, because the man's hand actually dropped. Prompto looked down at Ignis. Gladio must have tended to him before deciding it was time to drag Prompto off a guy, because he was carefully laid out on the floor, face up. He was alive. Prompto could see his chest slowly rising and falling. That was good. What was bad was the small trickle of blood that had run down from his hairline onto his cheek. Prompto remembered from Gladio's own trip to the hospital that head wounds meant a potion couldn't be used. He could only hope that Ignis would be okay.

The kitchen door opened. Their waitress emerged. All too casually, she stepped over Ignis' prone form, sat two glasses of water and a cup of coffee on the table, and then went back into the kitchen, door swinging behind her. Prompto really didn't want to think about the implications of that.

He was still so focused on the door and the waitress that he jumped a little when Gladio reached for his arm, grabbing him by the wrist to look at his hand. "We gotta teach you how to throw a proper punch." Oh. Yeah. Because he definitely had split knuckles again. That made perfect sense, considering he'd apparently taken out three guys in a feral rage.

"It's cool. I can't even feel it."

Gladio snorted. "Yeah, because you've got about ten gallons of pure adrenaline in your system. You need a potion."

"I don't want one."

"Well, too bad. You're getting one anyway. When backup gets here." Gladio paused. "They're on their way, if I hadn't made that clear." There was another long pause. "You know how I got this scar?" It took Prompto a moment to realize that he was now talking to the other people in the room. "I got it from an assassin a couple weeks back. Got me right in the face. Prompto here didn't even flinch. He just took the assassin out like it was nothing. A lot like how he took out three of your goons like it was nothing."

"Gladio!" he hissed up at him.

Gladio seemed to completely ignore him for a second before he looked down at him with a grin and said. "What do you say, Prom? You wanna be Shield instead?"

"No! I don't!" Gladio was laughing at him before he'd even finished getting the words out.

It was a couple more antagonizing minutes before Prompto heard sirens in the distance. He'd thought the men would try to run then. The sirens were grating enough to wake the dead, and these men were clearly some sort of criminals. They didn't, though. They looked around at each other shiftily, but they didn't move. Only Ignis moved, which was a blessing, even if Gladio immediately told him to not move until the paramedics had a look at him.

" 'S everyone all right?" The words were a little slurred and slow, but he was talking, and Prompto would take it.

"Everyone that matters. Except you."

"I'll live."

"I sure hope so."

Despite the sirens, the first person to walk through the door was Cor the Immortal. He walked in, eyes taking in the whole scene before his gaze fell on Prompto. He didn't say a word at all, only softly hummed as though mentally asking a question. The next people to arrive were the paramedics, who got Ignis up and out to the ambulance first before they returned for the other men. It was then that Cor first spoke. "I can guess what happened to Scientia, but what happened to these three? It doesn't look like your work."

"It was Prompto. Full on launched himself at them in rage when they took a cheap shot at Ignis. Gave me time to get the alert in and make sure Ignis was still breathing. Put the fear of the Six in the others too."

"Hmm," went Cor, infuriatingly. "Makes sense. I'd be scared of a tiny blond man launching himself at my face too."

Gladio snorted. Prompto didn't think it was very funny.

"He needs a potion though. Split his knuckles in the attack."

"You don't need my permission for that."

"I need the knuckles recorded though," Gladio clarified. The door opened again, and Prompto watched the shadows of other Crownsguard members file in. Arrests began immediately. Cor ignored them. Instead, he took out his phone.

"Hands out." Prompto rushed to obey, holding his hands out palms up. It was only at that point that he realized he had little cuts in his palms from his nails. That meant they definitely needed a trim. Cor the Immortal took a fucking picture of his hands. "Turn them over." Again, Prompto obeyed. Another picture. A third picture was taken, a flash in his face that left stars in front of his eyes. "There," Cor said, sounding very bored. "All done."

The instant the words were said, Prompto saw a flash of blue in his peripheral, and a bottle was placed on the table beside him. "You can break it or you can drink it. Once you're done, we'll go see Iggy."

With the carrot dangled in front of his nose, Prompto grabbed the potion, opened it, and chugged it down. Chugging it was really the only way to drink it, he realized about halfway through. Unlike the energy drink potion that Noctis had once made for him, this one tasted like pine tar. No wonder they usually just broke them open. "Done?" Gladio asked when he sat the bottle back down.

"Yeah," Prompto mumbled in return, watching in both mild fascination and mild horror as his own skin simply knit itself back together.

"Then let's go see Iggy."

Getting up was a little bit of a struggle. Prompto hadn't realized how wedged into the booth they'd been together like that. If his ass felt a little numb standing up, he could only imagine Gladio's legs felt worse, both from having him sit on top of them and from the cramped space between the edge of the booth and the table. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Come on." He pressed fingers lightly against Prompto's shoulder, and they moved on out.

If Prompto had thought that there was chaos inside the restaurant, it was nothing compared to outside. There were flashing lights everywhere, Crownsguard ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, and people were starting to gather at the perimeter. This would definitely make the news somewhere. Prompto kind of wanted to hide his face, but Ignis was more important.

Ignis was sitting in the end of the first ambulance, a blanket over his shoulders, and he was talking to one of the paramedics, which Prompto definitely took as a good sign. As he approached, Ignis turned his head toward them and smiled. Prompto's heart skipped a beat. There was no reason for him to be smiling, and yet here they were. "Here they are," he said to the paramedic, who nodded her head. His words were still a little slow, but the slurring seemed to be gone.

"I've told him he can go home. It doesn't seem like a severe concussion, so I gave him the choice." The paramedic gave them both a very severe glare. "But he needs someone to keep an eye on him, in case he does get worse."

"We'll keep an eye on him," Prompto said, maybe a little too quickly - a little too panicky. "Promise."

She didn't verbally give them an answer. Instead, she offered Ignis a clipboard. He took it and wrote down something that Prompto could only assume was a signature for his release. His writing was a little slower than normal, too. Like he had to think about it extra hard right now. When he was finished, he handed the clipboard back to her, and she gave him a small manila packet. It looked like maybe it had some pills in it.

"Be careful," she said. "Take it slow." If Prompto didn't know any better, he'd say she actually knew who he was as a person, and knew that he was likely to not take it slow at all, not when it came to his own health.

"I'll endeavor to be careful." She left him then, making her way on over to the other ambulance, probably to check on one of the people Prompto had beaten up. "I've already been assured that my car will be taken back to its proper spot by morning." Ignis sighed, "and told I am not to drive until at least Monday. So I suppose that means we're taking Gladio's truck."

"Fine by me," Gladio said gruffly. "You gonna need help getting up in it?"

"I should be fine, but I'll have one of you spot me."

"Okay." Gladio began to wander off in the direction his truck was probably in, but before Prompto could follow, Ignis stepped into his space.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Prompto laughed. He couldn't help it. "Iggy, you're the one with a concussion."

"I know," Ignis whined softly, a sign of said concussion all its own. "But I need to know you're all right."

"I'm fine," Prompto promised, which was physically true. Mentally . . . well, give him another ten minutes to get the adrenaline out of his system. "Gladio made sure I had a potion."

"Ah. Remind me to thank him later." Ignis leaned down, and Prompto let him kiss the top of his head in a display of public affection that normally Ignis didn't like. "Let's go, then, I suppose."

"Yeah, come on."

Gladio was waiting for them by the truck. He didn't touch, but he certainly made sure Ignis was up and in the truck safely before he even made his way around to the other side and got in the driver's seat. Prompto got in on Ignis' other side and put on his seatbelt. Even though there were three people in the truck, it didn't feel cramped, which was good, but also weird. It didn't help that the truck was so high up Prompto practically felt like he was floating. He didn't really like it, but he didn't say anything.

They had just passed the statue of The Rogue when the last of the mood-heightening adrenaline wore off, and everything began to hit Prompto at once. He had taken his boyfriends out to a restaurant that was now pretty clearly the front for a crime ring. He'd taken them there, public figures, recognizable faces, and he'd gotten Ignis hurt. Ignis could have been killed. They all could have been killed. Oh gods. Gladio's hanahaki was probably most definitely cured now, but he was also definitely going to break up with them because holy fuck that had to have been the worst date in the history of existence. It was all his fault. He'd ruined their date. Almost gotten Ignis killed. Gladio probably hated -- no. Not them. Him. Just him.

On top of all that, it was the second time he'd seen Cor the Immortal at a crime scene in two weeks. Two weeks! He was gonna get banned from hanging out with Noctis, because he was just trouble! He'd ask the universe if it could get any worse, but he'd seen enough movies to know that the answer was always yes.

"Darling?" Ignis' too slow to be quite right voice reached him. "Are you quite all right?"

"Yep," he squeaked out in an entirely not convincing way. "I'm good." It was a lie, everyone in the truck knew it was a lie, but neither of his boyfriends called him out on it. Prompto was grateful for that.

Gladio parked the truck in the parking deck and was just as diligent, if not more diligent, about watching Ignis get out of the truck than he'd been about watching him get in. They took the elevator up to their floor, and Prompto didn't complain, though he never actually complained about the elevator because complaining about being on an elevator was weird. He wanted to, though. Being in the elevator kind of really made him want to scream.

When they got off the elevator and the desire to scream shrank a little, they found Noctis waiting by their door accompanied by a woman that seemed vaguely familiar. He wouldn't know her name, but he was sure he'd seen her once, maybe twice, before.

"There you are!" The combination of fear and relief in Noctis' voice was so tangible that Prompto could almost taste it. "Are you guys okay?"

"Iggy here's got a a mild concussion, but otherwise we're all fine." Gladio smiled. "I see they gave you Glaive Altius this evening."

"Yeah! Because all available crownsguard went downtown!" Noctis threw his hands up in the air. "She was supposed to be off doing something else!"

"It's fine," the woman, apparently last name of Altius, said with a bit of a smirk. "This is more exciting."

"If it's any consolation, I very highly doubt that there's any real threat on your life."

"It's not, but thanks." Noctis looked at each of them in turn, biting his lip. "Are you guys sure you're okay?"

"I'll be right as rain by morning."

"Okay," Noctis still sounded a little doubtful, but he nodded his head. Prompto thought he'd head back downstairs at that point, and he did, but not before hugging all three of them, one at a time. Prompto got it first, full force and surprised. He lingered in the hug just long enough for Prompto to process it and hug back. Then Gladio was on the receiving end of a hug. He handled it better, chuckling a little and patting their prince on his back.

Ignis got his hug last, and it was the one that tore Prompto's heart out of his chest. Where he and Gladio had almost been tackled, Ignis was embraced gently, yet as seconds passed, his arms seemed to only grow tighter and tighter around him. Ignis sighed, but Prompto wasn't fooled at all. He was smiling as he wrapped his arms around Noctis in return. When he did, Noctis turned his head sharply into his chest, and Prompto swore he could feel the sharpness of Noctis' nose himself. When he finally pulled back, his eyes shined as though he was close to crying. "You get better, you hear me?"

"I'll be at work on Monday."

"You take a day off if you gotta!"

"Naturally." There was a snort from Gladio that mirrored Prompto's own thought on the matter. Ignis was not taking a day off. It wasn't in his nature.

"I'll . . . talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Yeah. Have a good night, Noct."

He ran off toward the elevator then, slowly followed by Glaive Altius, who without even really looking at them, gave a little finger wriggle as a goodbye as she went. "She seems like the sort of person who'd eat you alive." Prompto said softly as all the bad thoughts and feelings came back in like the high tide after Noctis had pulled them out like the moon.

"That's because she is," Gladio said with absolute confidence.

"She's strong, loyal, efficient, and excellent with His Majesty's magic. That's all that matters." The door lock clicked, and Ignis let them into the apartment. They were all a little crowded as they took off their shoes, and a kitten underfoot honestly didn't much help. In the end, Prompto had to pick her up so that Ignis didn't trip over her. Ms. Marbles purred at him all the same, but it didn't really make him feel any better.

"Now," Ignis said once they'd all managed to get out into the living room area. "Why don't you tell us what's wrong, Darling? And don't say nothing. I know better than that."

Prompto sat down on the touch, Ms. Marbles still in his arms, playfully gnawing at one finger. He was frowning, and he hated it, because he knew he was supposed to be smiling. He was always supposed to be smiling, and yet- "I ruined our date," he said bluntly after a moment.

"Now that is not true."

"It is!" he said louder, more insistently. "I chose that restaurant, thinking I could show you two something you'd maybe never seen before. I chose it, led you there, and it turns out it was run by some sort of," he paused for a moment, mouth agape, "crime ring!" He gestured his hands wildly, and Prompto felt little paws reach after them, trying to pull them back. "You got hurt! We could have gotten killed! And that's my fault!"

"Cut the bullshit," Gladio said sharply. Prompto flinched. "Let me tell you what I saw tonight. I saw you save us. You're right, they were going to kill us. Probably shoot us execution style, throw us in a wood chipper. They'd already decided that, and then this tiny blond thing they probably hadn't properly looked at twice took out three of their men in record time and wasn't going to stop until I dragged you off. You bought me time to alert someone where we were, making it impossible for them to escape without a trail. You. Saved. Us."

"Furthermore," Ignis put in, "you had no idea that the restaurant was a front. You've clearly been there before without any problems, correct?"

"Yeah," Prompto mumbled.

"So if anything, we ruined it by having recognizable faces. I must agree with Gladio, though I didn't see you do it. You saved us this evening."

"I still brought you there."

"And I was thoroughly pleased to be able to try something new. You were thoughtful. It is not your fault it went awry." Fingers grazed along the top of his hair. Prompto could feel that they were trembling. "If it's any consolation, we've been trying to track down that group for months. Now they're off the streets."

"I thought you said you didn't recognize him."

"I lied," Ignis said softly and shakily. "I was trying to get you out of there. Look at how well that worked out."

"What did the paramedic give you?"

If the change in topic bothered Ignis, he didn't show it. "Pain medication."

"You should take some." Trembling hands and voices weren't good signs, and Prompto didn't want Ignis to be in pain.

"I don't want to, yet," Ignis said in a whisper. "It is likely to put me to sleep."

"Sleep is probably what we all need," Gladio put in, and Prompto felt a little relief to have him on his side, at least about this. "If you guys just want to head to bed, I can also just head on out."

Prompto looked up at Ignis. Once he was sure he had Ignis' attention, he gave him a little pout. Just a small one. It was easy with the guilt and blame that still swirled inside of him. Ignis sighed. Prompto knew he got the message. "Would you like to spend the night?"

"Is that allowed?"

"Yes," Ignis said. "It would be."

"Then I'd like to."

They made Ignis get out of his date clothes and into his night clothes, and then tried and failed to keep Ignis out of the kitchen. He just kept saying that he was just making hot chocolate. Just. As though any recipe in Ignis Scientia's hands was a simple thing. "I'll keep an eye on him," Gladio said. "You go get changed, too. Get the movie set up."

Those were simple enough tasks, especially considering that Gladio had already decided what movie they should watch. The problem was simply that there seemed to be about twelve different versions of that particular movie, and Prompto found himself just stuck on the search screen until they returned. Great. He couldn't even do that correctly. Gladio seemed to know exactly which version he wanted thoug, and easily slid the clicker from his hands as Ignis handed Prompto his mug. "This one," he mumbled as Ignis sat down on Prompto's other side.

"Why that one?"

"Because it's the best version. Everyone agrees."

"Okay?"

As the movie began, Prompto watched Ignis take his medication (because he wasn't getting out of that, dammit), and then settled in to watch. It didn't . . . really make sense to him, as these movies rarely ever did, but it didn't really matter, because after about only twenty minutes he had Ignis tucked into his side, head pressed against his shoulder, and not long after that he had Gladio doing much the same, except with his head on top of Prompto's. Every once in a while, he'd whisper about paying attention to the part that was coming up, even though Prompto didn't understand any of it, and he was pretty sure Ignis was already asleep.

He was warm, and Prompto decided that cuddling on the couch wasn't a bad way to end a disastrous night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I complained about how long my chapters are getting? Well, you may have noticed that we didn't put in the bit about watching horror movies or actually eating pizza. That's because by the time I got to the end of the first bit I knew this chapter was getting away from me.
> 
> There were plans for that bit! So we decided I'd write it up as a separate side chapter to be published in _Just a Little Bit's Enough_ in two weeks. Look forward to it! <3


	10. Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Enjoy!

There was no question about it. Their first date, undeniably, had been a disaster. It had started promisingly enough. Prompto had selected a place he’d never eaten before with cuisine he hadn’t even known was an option. Ignis had been excited to try it and had, frankly, been looking forward to future visits. After all, they couldn’t _really_ sample the full menu in one night, could they?

It hadn’t taken long for things to fall apart.

They settled in, ordered their drinks, and studied the menu while they waited for Gladio to join them. Everything had been going well. And then a flashy and notorious criminal slammed out of the kitchen and stalked across the restaurant. Ignis had recognized him immediately. Johnny Valentine. He was impossible to miss, and not just for his taste in clothing. He wasn’t number one on the list, but he was irrefutably involved in a smuggling ring the Crownsguard had been having extremely limited success tracking down, at least in any meaningful sense. They had intercepted shipments, including one very creepy shipment of porcelain dolls full of the latest designer party drug. Arrests had been made, but thus far, there had been little success either finding someone with valuable information or getting anyone to talk.

So of course Johnny Valentine came storming through his very first date with both Prompto and Gladio. For a moment, he actually thought their meal would go smoothly despite it, and perhaps he could subtly alert the Crownsguard once they were in the parking lot, at least. But then Valentine recognized him, of all people, and everything, as they say, went to shit.

Ignis attempted to stop the situation from escalating, though even he was aware the chances of them letting them go so easily were slim. They’d already acknowledged each other. It was either they did something about their unwelcome guests, or they moved their entire operation - and quickly. Logistically speaking, Ignis knew which was likely easier. Still, he had to try. And he had to protect Prompto, who was only in danger by merit of his association.

And then Gladio walked through the door, and fool that he was, Ignis allowed himself to be distracted by his arrival. That moment of distraction cost him.

. . . when he woke up, it was to throbbing pain and the distinct sensation of a very hard, very cold floor. He shifted, immediately regretting opening his eyes at the stabbing sensation that accompanied squinting up at the florescent lights. Stay down. Yes. He could manage that.

“ ‘S everyone all right?” he managed, frowning at the sound of his own voice. That wasn’t great. Neither were the sirens. Or they were, technically, a good sign, but he did not appreciate them.

“Everyone that matters. Except you.” It was fine, then. He’d live. If Prompto was okay, then it was fine.

The paramedics arrived in short order, though truth be told, he couldn’t say for sure how long he lay there waiting. They ushered him out to an ambulance after a brief examination while Gladio and Prompto spoke with the Marshall, and by the time he’d gotten himself excused from a shiny new trip to the hospital, he was about ready to do anything to get out of there.

They didn’t think it was a severe concussion but. The lights. The noise. All of it. Was not helping. Even Gladio’s monster of a truck was a relief by comparison, though he’d never much liked the vehicle, to be frank. Or Gladio’s driving, for that matter. Though it was easy to be distracted by the usual irritations just from the sheer relief of the reduced noise and. Well. Prompto. Who was clearly not as okay as he was claiming. Gladio was holding it together splendidly, of course, but then. That was what they’d been trained for.

Of course, Prompto played it off as being fine. Ignis didn’t call him on it, though it was far from convincing. This was not a conversation to be had going 100 km/h down the highway. This was a conversation to be had somewhere quiet and private. Preferably back at their apartment. Their apartment. The thought was still warming, even under present circumstances.

Ignis allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes and not thinking much of anything beyond the faint nausea that came with the drive, and soon enough, they had arrived home. Where their prince was waiting for them. Ah, yes, of course. He or Gladio alone involved in an altercation was enough to set off a few alarming alerts, but with one of them injured as well? Of course, Noctis was waiting for him. He was nothing if not loyal.

“There you are!” Ignis felt an immediate rush of guilt at that tone, which really, mostly just made him more nauseous. Gladio took the lead on the conversation, which was perfectly alright with him, and then Noctis pulled them each in for a hug – Prompto first with all the enthusiasm he’d come to expect. Gladio reciprocated with a chuckle that seemed to imply he was humouring him, though Ignis knew perfectly well he appreciated the affection, and finally. Ignis. He gave an obligatory sigh when the prince wrapped his arms around him, but the sound was fond, and he found himself returning the gesture easily. As though he could refuse his prince a hug, particularly given the nature of their relationship even as little as a year ago. And then Noct pulled away, sternly demanding he take a day off from work if he needed (they all knew he wouldn’t) before running off as though fleeing actually having had a moment itself. Glaive Altius followed with a sort of casual alertness – it was thoroughly comforting to know the prince had someone so entirely capable at his side, even if it wasn't exactly who had been planned to be on Noctis-duty that night.

A few lingering comments, and then they were inside, and Ignis was free to turn his attention to another matter at hand: Prompto. Who was very clearly not okay. And apparently thought the full blame for the evening’s unscheduled divergence fell entirely upon him. It wasn’t surprising, exactly, but it was blatantly untrue, and they were both willing and ready to tell him as much . . . and though Ignis did wish Gladio could be a little more delicate about these things, he certainly got the point across. What had happened could not have been helped by anything Prompto had done. If anything, he had behaved admirably.

But before they could make any real progress on convincing him, the blond turned the conversation on him, as he was apt to do, and the subject of what medication he’d been given by the paramedics. Ignis . . . wasn’t in the best shape, to be sure. He wasn’t denying it. He felt . . . unsteady. His head was throbbing. Sleep likely was, as Gladio had so helpfully pointed out, exactly what he needed. But he needed to do one simple thing first. One simple comfort, to express the affection that his boyfriend would not take in simple reassurances. Hot cocoa. Just the way he liked it, with cinnamon and coconut milk and no more than three small marshmallows on top. And no amount of interference was going to stop him. They figured that out, too, quickly enough, and Gladio set himself to assisting him as Prompto set up a movie.

Cuddling on the couch with a movie on low – Gladio’s pick, so likely to be something not too exciting on an overtaxed mind – sounded like a perfectly lovely way to end the evening. And it was, in practice. Ignis himself wasn’t awake for much of it, setting his partially full mug aside as soon as he took his medication. He blinked sleepily at the screen as familiar characters were introduced and the tone was set, drooping to tuck himself against what had quickly become an all too comfortable shoulder. It wasn’t long before he found himself drifting, but he couldn’t complain. He was comfortable. He was warm. And he was loved. Perhaps the night wasn’t such a disaster, after all.

When Ignis woke, it was to the press of warm bodies around him and the less than gentle throbbing in his skull. He groaned, shifting slightly, then flinching against the arms that tightened around him. He pushed lightly against the body in front of him, squinting wearily when the grip tightened further still. For goodness sake . . .

He pushed harder, and the warmth against his back shifted, followed by a gravely voice, half awake. “ ‘s wrong?” Before he could manage any kind of coherent answer, rough fingers brushed against his cheek and he flinched once more, grimacing at the way another sudden movement caused the throbbing to intensify. “Your head hurt?” Gladio sounded more alert all of a sudden, and the bed shifted with his movements as he pulled away. “Wait here.”

As though Ignis really had a choice, with a certain blond koala still firmly attached. Not that he shouldn’t have been used to it by then, but he was rather ill-equipped to wiggle his way free, at the moment.

After what seemed like only moments, the bed dipped, and Ignis flinched once again – he was quickly wearying of that reaction – when large hands made contact, helping him shift free enough to elevate his position, take the pills Gladio had retrieved (over the counter, this time), and chase them down with a gulp from a nearby water bottle. Then it was a simple matter to settle back in, somehow managing not to jostle the blond too badly through all of that, though there was a moment when he mumbled in his sleep and Ignis thought he might waken.

Ignis settled against him, the pain already beginning to dull, and outright moaned when fingers worked through his hair, massaging against his scalp and carefully avoiding where he’d been struck. “Shut up, Gladio,” he muttered (though it came out more like ‘shaddup glad’o’) as he began to drift, distantly aware the man only chuckled again in response.

When he woke next, the room was much brighter, the half-opened curtains permitting the light of mid-morning to filter across the room. He was very much still firmly in someone’s clutches, and that someone knew exactly what he was doing, considering Ignis could see the sparkling blue eyes he so loved perfectly well even without his glasses.

If Prompto was already that alert and perky, clearly he’d overslept considerably.

“Good morning, Darling,” he murmured, leaning forward to press a light kiss to a freckled cheek before pushing himself towards sitting. His head hurt considerably less, though any quick movement provoked a particularly unpleasant throbbing. “Kindly let me up,” he added gently, more amused than anything when the blond continued to cling. Clearly they’d moved – been moved? – to the bed at some point, though he suspected the blond would have let himself be dragged straight off the couch, too, if they hadn’t. He was clearly committed to keeping him from escaping.

“Nope!” he announced cheerfully, popping his lips on the p. That’s how it was going to be, was it?

“Now Darling,” he plied, voice sickly sweet. “However am I to cook our breakfast if you keep me here?” Breakfast in bed sounded good, right? It could all be his for the low, low price of letting his boyfriend escape his grabby little clutches.

“Gladio’s on it!” Was that what that smell was? Perhaps it _was_ Gladio bringing them breakfast in bed, but at what cost? The finish scoured off his favourite saute pan? Gods help them all he found scorch marks on anything . . .

“Hey, look who’s up!” Ignis twisted to glare at the shield, who only laughed at the expression. “Relax, Iggy. Your kitchen’s safe.”

“It is, though?” Despite the drama of the question, the brunet’s tone was even. “Is it, truly?”

“Scoot over.” Ignis only just managed to move out of the way quickly enough to avoid being sat on, but tucked between the two of them, he couldn’t really complain. Particularly as the blond finally released him the moment Gladio laid a platter laden with food across his lap. Evidently they were to share from a single tray, as it was also accompanied by three forks. Gladio immediately snagged one and speared a chunk of melon.

Fresh fruit in the morning was quite lovely. The protein was covered by a large portion of eggs, scrambled and cooked with mushroom, tomato, and if his senses weren’t fooling him, onion. And the unnecessary sugar was more than covered by the final item on the tray: poptarts, if those could even truly be called food. Poptarts . . . how had those even gotten into his apartment?

Of course, it was _their_ apartment, now – a thought that still made him smile whenever it crossed his mind. His boyfriend was of course welcome to bring whatever food he wished into it, even if it was completely deficient of any redeeming qualities. Who was he to judge his boyfriend’s comfort food?

. . . but as Prompto scooped one up with a grin and took a bite, he was judging. He was definitely judging. He was certainly going to have to make pastries soon. Pastries that were, to state the obvious, far superior to these monstrosities.

At least this would give him some idea of what flavour the blond preferred. He’d match and surpass it, not that he truly believed it meant his boyfriend would ever stop buying chemical-laden imitation pastries. Sigh.

“You okay, there, Iggy?” There was laughter in the shield’s voice, and he was making no effort to keep from smirking. “You’re making the weirdest expression.”

“Perfectly well, I assure you,” he commented mildly, lifting a fork to spear a chunk of banana. If the larger man had damaged one of his pans in his efforts, it was too late to stop it now. The least he could do was enjoy present circumstances before he had to shift to damage control. “Did you sleep well?” He ought to have, considering how much he paid for this bed. And cuddling up with his new boyfriends, surely, couldn’t have hurt.

Ignis tucked the piece of fruit into his mouth as Gladio chuckled. “I wasn’t expecting you to be the cuddly one,” he commented gleefully.

“Oh, yeah, Iggy’s super cuddly.” Prompto paused to finish chewing the food already in his mouth at Ignis’ expression of blatant disapproval. He swallowed, then continued. “Like, totally didn’t expect it, either! But he’s all . . . nyom, miiiiine~!” Ignis smiled indulgently. It was an interesting observation from someone who, as far as he could recall, had been attached to him like a barnacle all night. “But yeah, Iggy’s totally the cuddler.” He shrugged. “I’m just the sex monster.”

Ignis almost choked on the forkful of eggs he’s just put in his mouth. It certainly wasn’t untrue but. He was not expecting the blond to say as much, particularly so suddenly and bluntly. And judging by the expression on Prompto’s face – and the rather endearing blush that accompanied it – he’d caught himself by surprise as well. He chuckled. He tried not to, truly. But it was just. So. Adorable.

“Oh, really?” Gladio gave a toothy grin, clearly more than a little amused by the turn the conversation had taken. “That’s good to know.”

“Shut up, Gladio!” the blond groaned, dropping the remains of his poptart to hide his face in his hands.

“You said it, not me.”

“I didn’t mean toooooooo.”

Ignis chuckled again, settling his fork aside to drape an arm across the blond’s shoulders. “It’s alright, darling. He would have found out sooner or later.” Sooner, probably, knowing Prompto, if he was being perfectly honest.

“Iggyyyyyyy.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of the blond’s head, making no further comment as he turned his attention back to the food. The best way to not embarrass him more, after all, was not to dwell. Not that it stopped Gladio from continuing to grin and waggle his eyebrows. Because of course he was.

“Thank you for making breakfast, Gladio,” he said pointedly, slipping the tray of his lap and deftly wiggling the rest of the way out from under the covers. “If you’d kindly let me out, I must use the facilities.” One of them would move, surely. They wouldn’t keep a man from his own bathroom? If they didn’t, he wasn’t above climbing right on over them.

Besides, he needed coffee. Only a fool would stand between a Scientia and his coffee. He’d be surprised they hadn’t brought him any, but honestly, he was relieved Gladio hadn’t touched The Machine. Probably couldn’t figure out how to make her go. That was fair. There was a learning curve. Preferably one that occurred when he was there to supervise.

When he came out of the restroom, both Gladio and Prompto had already moved to the kitchen, wisely anticipating his next concern. What was left of the tray of food had been left by the coffeemaker, and Ignis snagged a piece of fruit before moving to prepare his brew.

Ignis waited patiently (or not so patiently, but at least calmly enough) as enough brewed to pour his first cup, then took a long, satisfied sip before turning to lean against the counter. “Very well.” It was rather transparent, the way they were hovering around. What were they expecting? Him to whip out the cleaning supplies and get to work? He could see already that Gladio had washed whatever dishes he’d used to prepare their breakfast, though whether said washing met his specifications . . . it could wait. For now. “What shall we do today, then?” Perhaps if he humoured them for a time, he’d get to something productive this afternoon.

It was ridiculous – and utterly endearing – the way they both lit up at the question. They both had ideas. Ideas that mostly seemed to revolve around relaxing and “taking it easy,” but in each others’ company. It sounded lovely, to be sure, though entirely impractical. Usually Sunday mornings were for catching up on his housework, shifting into an afternoon, and often evening, prepping for the coming week. But clearly they were conspiring against him to ‘just take a break for once, Iggy, geez.’

It wasn’t long before Prompto pulled out his old gamestation, gushing about the classic old games he used to play as a child. Ignis had hardly touched the thing in years, though he had devoted many hours to it so a young prince could have a player two. It hadn’t come to him as easily as it had Noctis, but he’d devoted himself to learning with the same single focus as mathematics or politics. To his younger self, who had been tasked with being the prince’s friend as well as his advisor, it had seemed just as important.

Prompto roped them both into playing the first few rounds, but before long, Ignis bowed out, content to simply watch. Perhaps it was the after affects of his concussion, or perhaps simply the years since he’d played with anything resembling devotion, but he found himself unable to keep up with what once was rote, and concentrating on trying for too long was making his head ache.

Before he knew it, he drifted off where he was watching, tucked neatly on the far end of the sofa. He may have slept through the night instead of merely the day if not for the hand that eventually shook his shoulder, the soft, insistent voice that bade him to come to bed.

When he woke again, it was mere minutes before his Monday phone alarm, and he thought only that he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so well rested. Perhaps there was something to taking a quiet Sunday, though he knew he couldn’t make it a habit. After all, now he would have to catch up on everything he usually did Sunday evenings.

However . . . there was a little bit of something else on his mind. Though the arguably failed date had in no way diminished his affection for his boyfriend or his interest in the budding relationship between the three of them, there was one entirely disappointing note to the whole experience:

He had not, as it so happened, gotten to try Pusciellian food. It was really picking at him. Surely there had to be somewhere else, in all of Insomnia, that served it, considering the rather sizable refugee population. Not that he could find it, in his intermittent attempts between meetings and other such tasks. And Prompto had risen shortly after him, had already been on his way to work by the time he’d thought to ask. But surely this was something he could work through on his own?

Then again, there wasn’t much on even the Snow Maiden’s Tears, when he looked hard enough, beyond . . . everything tied up in what had happened Saturday night.

Still, it was frustrating. He was left feeling in over his head. Which meant there was only really one way to move forward.

It was just after lunch time – and yes, he _had_ remembered to eat, thank you very much, Gladio – when he knocked on Tellus Scientia’s office door. They both miraculously had a period cleared in their schedule due to the cancellation of a meeting led by Lord Maori, who had _tragically_ come down with a stomach flu. And they all wished him a speedy recovery, Ignis was sure.

Tellus’ voice was curt when he bade him come in, which in all honestly, wasn’t entirely surprising. He was a no-nonsense kind of man and had zero patience for having his time wasted. And what were, after all, unexpected drop-bys but so frequently a blatant waste of one’s time? But when Ignis entered, his expression softened, though so slightly it would be easy to miss if you didn’t know the man well.

Of course, Ignis had quite literally been raised by him, so he knew very well how to tell when his uncle looked, dare he say it, fond. Unfortunately, the expression was a brief one, a momentary softening of what someone lesser might have simplified as “a bad mood.” Ignis knew better. Uncle Tellus didn’t have bad moods. There was always an explanation. He was, to a fault, a practical man. And that practical man was, without a doubt, furious. And not even “what were you thinking sneaking the prince out for a joyride in the middle of the night?!” furious. This was “heads will roll" furious. And knowing what it took to get Uncle Tellus quite that angry, Ignis was entirely certain he wanted in.

“Ah.” The man’s tone was mild, despite his mood. Tellus Scientia always had been a master at reigning in his emotions . . . at least as far as Ignis himself remembered. “Ignis. How timely.” Well, that wasn’t exactly encouraging. “Please, have a seat.”

Ignis stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind him before moving to perch in the chair positioned to the side of his desk. Tellus did not have a large number of formal visitors. If something was needed, he went to them. His uncle preferred it that way.

“Regarding Saturday’s incident.” Instantly, Ignis was on alert. It was alarming, to say the least, that this was the first subject his uncle brought up, particularly considering his mood. He knew he was gay, of course, and that he was dating Prompto, obviously. Neither of these issues were of concern. It wasn’t the first time Ignis had gotten himself into trouble and gotten hurt, and unlike Uncle Ventus, Uncle Tellus had never lectured him on such incidents – merely expressed concern his own mild way and encouraged him to take up, and then later continue, his training with the Crownsguard. Furthermore, considering that Ignis was well enough after a day or two and the event itself had put a number of dangerous people behind bars, Tellus was practical enough to overlook what unpleasantness had come from the situation in favour of the greater good.

Was it Gladio, then? Was there something about Gladio, specifically, he objected to? It wasn’t like Tellus to question him on his choices in such matters, but then again, Ignis had never dated someone he’d have to so closely work with for literally the rest of his life. It would be entirely like Uncle Tellus to have concerns. Dating Gladio didn’t affect just his personal life, but his professional one as well.

The possibility that Uncle Tellus may not have realized he was dating Gladio as well as Prompto now didn’t even occur to him. It didn’t matter that the relationship was literally less than three days old, Uncle Tellus had a way of finding out about things. Someday Ignis would surprise him, maybe, but it certainly wouldn’t be after his first date with two romantic partners blew up in the Crownsguards’ face.

Tellus stared at him a long moment, shifting to steeple his hands on his desk in front of him as he watched Ignis try very hard not to squirm. It had always been difficult not to crumple like wet tissue paper under his uncle’s attention. This was no exception.

“Lord Amicitia seems to have put the pieces together,” he commented somewhat ruefully, the tone betraying exactly who the current subject of his wrath was. That and the fact that he’d used the man’s title. That was a pretty big giveaway. After all, his uncles had been friends with the king and his shield both for many years now, and though the king had never quite convinced Tellus to call him Reggie, the man did usually at least refer to Clarus by name in private.

“Ah.” Ignis managed not to show, he thought, how much that revealing little statement relieved him. “He wasn’t pleased, I take it.” After all, King’s Shield or no, the disapproval of his boyfriend’s father was much easier to bear than that of his uncle. It was almost familiar, even.

“He was downright traditional.” Ignis winced, if only inwardly, at the statement. The word _traditional_ was certainly not a compliment coming from his uncle. Traditional values, after all, had gotten a young Tellus Scientia disowned and discriminated against at nearly every turn.

Ignis frowned. His uncles had been friends with Clarus Amicitia a long time. Nearly as long as he’d been alive, if he understood correctly. He might have expected the King’s Shield to protest on professional grounds, just as he’d been concerned his uncle would have, but what Uncle Tellus seemed to be implying . . . surely Clarus Amicitia wasn’t one of those people who thought it was all well and good until it was someone closer to him . . .?

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ignis murmured. It was one thing if the man was worried about the prince’s shield and advisor dating and all the ways that could end badly, but it was quite another if he was being outright discriminatory.

“Tell me about it.” Clearly, that was a rhetorical statement. “He appeared quite concerned with the consideration of an heir.”

“That’s ridiculous.” The words were out before Ignis fully considered them, but if he had paused to think it through, he’d have said the exact same thing. As though there weren’t literally generations of precedent. As though Lord Amicitia’s own grandfather hadn’t used a surrogate after his wife died before producing an heir. Out of all the reasons the man could have disapproved, the sanctity of his bloodline was perhaps one of the most idiotic.

He could only conclude, then, that it wasn’t the real reason. That it was just the excuse, or perhaps even the reason he was telling himself. Perhaps even Lord Amicitia wasn’t aware of how his own protests sounded. But the man wasn’t an idiot. Surely he must realize he was being an enormous asshole.

He could see, now, just why his Uncle Tellus was so very furious. Twenty plus years of friendship, and this was the nonsense he had to listen to.

“Shall I put something together?” The suggestion was offered somewhat lightly, though Ignis was entirely serious. It was, after all, his own relationship that was being objected to, and truth be told . . . now that it had happened, he really wanted to give it his best try. It would difficult enough to navigate those new dynamics without Lord Amicitia fighting them every step of the way.

Uncle Tellus looked thoughtful for a long moment, then smiled, an expression that under different circumstances might have struck fear into Ignis’ heart. “I think that’s a lovely idea.” The man leaned back in his chair, looking far more relaxed than when Ignis had arrived. “After all, you’ve been tutoring His Highness all these years. Surely you can put something together even Lord Amicitia can parse.”

Goodness. That seemed a bit harsh, even if Ignis did agree with the sentiment. But then, Uncle Tellus had never really been one to hold back. Or, at least, if he was ever appearing to . . . that was when you should really be worried.

“Now.” The smile quirked up in to something a little more genuine. “I’m not so foolish as to think you stopped by merely to chat with an old man.” It amused Ignis when Uncle Tellus talked about himself like that. He was hardly an old man, even if he wasn’t a young one. “Were you needing something?”

“Ah.” Yes, about that. Tellus was certainly correct that it wasn’t like Ignis to stop by just for a yak, particularly in middle of a work day. Neither of them had the time for such pleasantries. Ignis had, indeed, come by for something in particular. “Regarding Saturday’s incident . . .”

“Yes?” The man’s brow lifted, curiosity peaked.

Ignis frowned, pausing a moment while he gathered his thoughts. Of course, the best approach with Uncle Tellus was always the most direct one.

“Thoroughly considering everything that happened,” he said carefully, well aware that his uncle was likely about to find him deeply amusing, “I think the greatest disappointment of the night was the missed opportunity to sample an unfamiliar cuisine.”

Tellus chuckled – actually chuckled – but fair enough. They’d accidentally broken a major smuggling case and he’d ended the night with a concussion, but he was whinging about the Pusciellian he’d been denied sampling. It was amusing, from a certain standpoint.

“Unfortunately, I’m not having much luck finding an alternative venue.” It was quite frustrating, really.

“And you were hoping I might help, I take it.” Yes, there it was. Tellus couldn’t quite hide the crinkling around his eyes – at least when he was talking to his nephew. Ignis had seen his council poker face. It was. Terrifyingly flawless.

“If anyone can help with a seemingly hopeless cause,” Ignis commented mildly, “it’s you.” After all, a little flattery never hurt. And it was true enough. Ignis didn’t know that he could ever fill his uncle’s shoes when the time came, but he’d sixdamned do his best.

Tellus chuckled again, and Ignis felt a sudden surge of pride. That was a long way from the thunderclouds he’d walked in to, but then again, perhaps his uncle truly felt the monster of a report he would put together – and he had some ideas already – was just desserts for the subject of his ire. Perhaps that was satisfying.

“Very well, I’ll see what I can do.”

That settled and the unexpected space in his schedule nearly eaten up (at least by the time they were finished chatting), Ignis hastened to make his next appointment - or, rather, his scheduled afteroon break. With some rush, Ignis arrived precisely on time at the Bee’s Knees café, which to him basically meant that he was late. Certainly late enough to be second to arrive. He spotted a familiar coif of blond hair moments after entering the establishment, smiling automatically when said blond’s gaze jerked up at the sound of the door’s bell. Prompto bounced to his feet and over to join him in line, his smile not quite even, betraying his anxiety. Oh dear.

“Hello Darling.” Ignis waited for the blond, then stepped smoothly in line, one hand coming up to rest against the small of the other man’s back. “How did your meeting go?” The blond grimaced. Ah. So that was it, then. “Not good news, I take it?”

“No, I - !” The blond stiffened, then took a deep breath, not quite steady on the exhale. “It was fine! Just. I. What would you think about me joining the crownsguard?”

Ignis gave a light hum, interrupted from giving a response – and perhaps granting him an extra moment to gather his thoughts – by reaching the front of the line. They gave their drink orders, but before Ignis could pull out his wallet, Prompto slapped some cash on the counter. The poor barista took one look at their expressions – no doubt sensing the pending competition over who got to pay – and snatched the money up, cheerfully announcing they could pick their drinks up at the far counter as she counted out and handed back his change.

Ah, well. He certainly should have seen that coming. Next time, he supposed, he’d be better prepared.

“It’s certainly an enticing possibility,” he commented, easily picking the thread of conversation back up. Knowing Prompto . . . well, the disbelieving look he shot him summarized it quite nicely. “I rather think it’s a logical progression, given recent events.” And by recent events, of course, he meant his sudden penchant for all out punching trouble straight in the face. “And I absolutely think you’d be up to task, should you chose to pursue it.” Really, there weren’t a lot of negatives to be considered when he thought about it. Of course, Prompto would be exposed to danger in the role, but seeing how he wasn’t likely to go anywhere anytime soon, he was already exposed to danger just from his sheer proximity not only to the prince, but to Gladio and Ignis as well. If he joined the Crownsguard, he’d have _training_.

Not to mention the bump in salary, once the blond made it through the initial training. The healthcare. The benefits. They had to be better than what Prompto had now. And if the blond was earning it himself, surely he’d be less resistant to receiving all the care the deserved. It would be a step forward, certainly, in that aspect as well.

The blond gave a little self-deprecating laugh. “Come on. You’re just saying that because I’m your boyfriend.”

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” he corrected with the absolute sincerity, the certainty and gravitas, the statement deserved. They retrieved their drinks as their number was called, falling silent momentarily as they moved to find a seat where there would be room, too, when Gladio arrived.

“Prompto,” Ignis started, sliding into the booth next to the blond. He didn’t like the way Prompto was reacting. He wasn’t surprised, exactly. He’d known his boyfriend long enough to expect it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. He had so many good qualities, but all he ever saw was the bad.

“Are we going to see you tonight?” Ignis blinked at the abrupt change of subject. But then. Maybe Prompto wasn’t _really_ ready to talk about it yet. There wasn’t much to be done about that. If Prompto needed more time to think about it, then he needed more time to think about it. They could discuss it again in a day or two, and when it came to that, Ignis would be just as ready to tell him what he thought.

The question itself, however. “I apologize,” he offered softly, hand shifting to rest on the blond’s leg, palm up. Ignis smiled when Prompto immediately grasped it tight. He’d have liked to say yes. Certainly, he’d much rather be snuggling on the sofa with his boyfriend than bent over paperwork half the night, but such was the life he’d chosen. “I’m afraid it’s going to be a late night.” After all, he had quite a bit of research to pull together, now. Ah, and about that. It would be for the best if filled the blond in right away. It would be quite the nasty surprise to find out on his own later. “There is one more thing . . .”

“Y-yeah?”

“I had a chat with my uncle this afternoon. I’m afraid he had some unwelcome news.” Unwelcome as it may be, it was an inevitable outcome. And there was certainly no benefit to dragging out its discussion. “The unfortunate side effect of Saturday’s excursion is that, once the report hit Lord Amicitia’s desk, he was able to put two and two together and come up with three.” That was one way to put it, he supposed. Seeing how the relationship was, to simplify it greatly, a threesome.

“He’s mad, isn’t he?” Prompto sounded . . . anxious. Sad. And Ignis’ animosity for the person who caused it grew exponentially. “It’s not allowed, right?”

“Fear not.” Ignis managed a smile, small that it was. “Lord Amicitia’s opinion has never stopped Gladio from dating anyone. I doubt it shall do so now.” Particularly given current circumstances. This wasn’t like that Niff artist Gladio had dated or that time a much younger Gladio had followed one of the glaive around making moon eyes and spewing bad poetry. This was much more serious. “But you are correct. He was certainly not pleased.” Ignis rather thought his acerbic tone conveyed his opinion on the matter well enough. “His primary concern, evidently, is the expectation that Gladio marry a nice woman someday and produce the next generation of shields.” Ignis had been aware of this expectation, of course. What he hadn’t been aware of was that Lord Amicitia had his head up the ass of the 500s. It was, quite frankly, a Titan-sized load of shit. Not to mention an appalling reaction to have to his son accidentally outing himself.

“O-oh.” Ignis gave Prompto’s hand a little squeeze at his dejected tone. “I didn’t realize it was illegal or something.”

“It isn’t, Darling.” Honestly, he was a little baffled that was what Prompto got out of that. “Lord Amicitia’s just an asshole.”

Ignis’ attention jerked away from his boyfriend at the sound of a booming laugh. He’d mostly tuned out the rest of the café – they were near the citadel at an establishment that largely catered to government workers, so the danger was, after all minimal – but he certainly couldn’t tune out that familiar laugh. Which was coming from. His other boyfriend. Gladio. Who had arrived with the precise timing to hear Ignis insulting his own father. That was, frankly, just too bad. He wasn’t taking it back. Though judging by that laugh, there was no real need for repentance. Unsurprising. Ignis could make an intelligent guess on how Gladio had spent at least part of his morning.

“_Ignis!_” Prompto, at least, sounded properly scandalized. And more than a little delighted, to be honest.

“He ain’t wrong.” Gladio slid into the booth across from them and proceeded to make himself comfortable. “Believe me. I haven’t gotten a lecture like that in years.” And he certainly sounded bitter about it. Fair enough. Ignis knew perfectly well . . . he was not the only one who agreed that Gladio wasn’t the one out of line here.

“Hmmm.” Ignis took a long drink of his coffee – the brew really was quite delicious here. “You’re welcome to spend the night again, if your father is giving you too much trouble.” He looked to Prompto for confirmation, smiling when the blond’s head bobbed with agreement. “I’m quite sure Prompto would enjoy the company.”

“Yeah!”

“Late night?” The shield’s voice softened with the question.

“I’m afraid so.” As though heralded by the words, his phone began to vibrate. He pulled it from his pocket, frowning slightly as he silenced the alarm. “And that’s my cue to go.”

“Already?” If the pout wasn’t enough of a hint, the disappointment in Prompto's voice would be more than enough to entice him to stay, if staying were an option.

“I’m sorry, Darling.” He pulled away, but immediately leaned back in to kiss his cheek after he rose. “It’s simply one of those days.” The pout deepened, and he pecked another kiss before straightening again.

After a small moment of hesitation, he moved to Gladio’s side of the booth to offer a similar gesture. Honestly, he shouldn’t have even been surprised when the man looped an arm around his waist and pulled him in closer to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on his left cheek.

“Honestly, Gladio,” he shoved at the man’s shoulder, giving him distance from his big, smug face. He managed, he thought, not to sound as flustered as the action made him feel, but there was no hiding the heat that flooded his face. “You _cannot_ be trusted to restrain yourself.”

“Oh, I’m restraining myself,” he teased with a waggle of his eyebrows, unrepentant as expected. The giggle from across the table only encouraged him, no doubt. Ignis wasn’t very upset, truly, though a bit more decorum would certainly be appreciated.

He really couldn’t linger, though, so with little more than a huff and a final goodbye, he ducked from the café and made his way back to his office. He was at least through his meetings for the day, but he’d not quite finished summarizing his notes, and even when that was complete, he had quite a bit of work ahead of him yet.

After all, he had a manifesto to write.


	11. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Please enjoy!

The call came in at 5:40 a.m. while he was walking to work.

It wasn't a number that Prompto recognized in any way, but he was also pretty sure that if someone was calling him at 5:40 in the morning it probably wasn't a telemarketer, and it was probably important. He answered. "Hello?"

_"Ah. You're awake."_

"Yeah. I'm on my way to work." He paused, realizing that he'd said that to someone on the phone, having no idea who it was. "Who is this?"

_"It's Cor Leonis."_ Prompto almost dropped his phone right there. _"When do you get off of work?"_

"At one. Maybe one-thirty." He didn't bother to ask why. He had a sinking suspicion he was about to find out.

He was right. _"I'll expect you in my office at about two thirty then. You don't need to go home and change or anything. Do you need a ride?"_

"No. I can get there." Was his voice trembling? Gods he hoped not. His heart felt like it was going to beat its way out of his chest though. Maybe he was going to have a heart attack at the age of eighteen. Right here. In the middle of the sidewalk, before it was even six a.m.

_"Good. I'll have someone waiting for you at the front then."_ For a moment, Prompto thought he'd just hang up at that point, without a good day or anything, but then he spoke again. _"Also, I feel it should be said that you're not in trouble."_

"That," he managed to squeak out, "is good to know." Logically, Prompto knew that it was probably just like it had been a couple weeks ago. He was just going to give a report about what had happened on Saturday. He'd sign some paper saying that he hadn't lied in his statement, and then he'd go home. Hearing it said that he wasn't in trouble though was definitely a blessing that would help him get through his day without panicky thoughts.

_"All right. I'll see you at two-thirty then."_ That was when Cor the Immortal hung up on him, and that was how he found himself standing outside Cor the Immortal's office at two-thirty in the afternoon.

When he knocked, he was politely invited inside, and he sat in the same chair he had last time. They went over the same sorts of questions as last time, each one with a little hmm in between them as Cor jotted his notes down. At the end of the questions, a very official looking paper was slid over Cor's desktop for him to sign, and Prompto signed it with a pen that had very smooth ink. He thought that would be it. He was wrong.

"I must admit, there was another reason I wanted to talk to you today, Prompto."

"O-oh?" His thoughts took off at a million miles a minute. Oh no. Oh no. He'd figured out about the three of them, that they were dating now, and why wouldn't he have figured that out? Prompto had literally been sitting in Gladio's lap when he'd arrived! He was probably going to tell him off for it. He was probably--

"Have you ever considered joining the Crownsguard?"

Every single damn thought in his brain died in that instant. "What?" It was the only word his brain could process.

"Have you ever considered joining the Crownsguard?" Cor repeated, and it wasn't any easier to hear or comprehend the second time.

"I. Uh. No?" That was mostly true. Of course he'd had silly little thoughts very early on in his relationship with Noctis. Thoughts of how he'd keep his friendship with him alive after high school, but they'd mostly been daydreams. He knew better. He was clumsy. He was common. He wasn't smart. He wasn't strong. The problem had worked itself out just fine anyway. Even without high school, Noctis seemed to be in no rush to push him out of his life, and now he was intimately involved with both Ignis and Gladio, and so, for the time being, they were all stuck with him. He hadn't thought about it in years and never seriously.

"Why not?"

What little thought had been going on in his brain was sucked right back out by that question. Cor made it sound like it was the obvious choice. He made it sound like it was something he should have already done. It wasn't. It so wasn't. "No offense, but why would I?"

"I'll tell you why." Cor set his folded hands on his desk very seriously. "Because you are an ideal candidate."

Prompto laughed. He couldn't help it. To him it just seemed that outrageous a statement. It wasn't that he'd expected Cor the Immortal to laugh with him, but when he both didn't laugh and his eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown, Prompto stopped laughing too. "Oh. Gods. You're serious."

"I'm extremely serious."

"But!" His breath halted in his lungs. He had to push words out. "I don't? Get it? I'm not a fighter. I'm not strong. I'm not a tactician. I can't swing a sword. Or do magic. Or . . . anything!"

"Ignis says you get up very nearly every morning to go for a run. You rarely miss your morning run, and when you do it's normally planned that way."

"I mean. Yeah?"

"That means you're regimented. Already. We don't have to teach you that. Not only that, but you have instinct. When that assassin took Gladio down in the horror house, you didn't hesitate."

"I didn't even think," Prompto was pushing the words off as a bad thing, but Cor only smiled at him, as much as Cor smiled.

"Even better. Your instincts knew something was wrong, you took it down. I can't teach that. No one can. I am being very honest when I say that I wish half my cadets had half the instinct you showed that day."

Prompto squirmed in his chair uncomfortably. "Okay?"

"And you proved on Saturday that you have a desire to protect and defend. I can't teach that, either." Prompto was pretty sure he'd done a bit more than 'protect and defend,' but Cor wasn't giving him the chance to argue. "I also cannot teach a person the loyalty you have in spades."

"Umm . . ." Prompto bit his lip, trying to hold himself back.

"What? Don't tell me you don't think yourself loyal?"

Prompto made a face. He could feel his nose scrunching up as he did it. This was such an uncomfortable conversation. It wasn't even about the idea of joining anymore. It was the boons that Cor the Immortal seemed to think he had. Being complimented never sat well in his stomach. "Well. No. But. Um. No offense. I'm just, like, only really loyal to Noct--is. Prince Noctis." Not saying he'd go up to the throne room and shoot the king, but it was his friendship that made him loyal. It wasn't some mystical thing he'd pulled out of the air, for home and country or whatever. It was Noctis and not anything else.

"Well, isn't that just even better?" The confusion must have as plain as the freckles on his face, because Cor went on, his voice sounding almost amused. Could Cor the Immortal be amused? "Look, perhaps I shouldn't tell you this before you join, but I'll tell you anyway. It's traditional for a member of the Crown to have three retainers. They're usually loyal servants that they've known since childhood, if not always friends. A Shield and Ruler aren't always friends." Prompto knew that Gladio and Noctis hadn't always been friends either.

"Noctis currently only has two retainers. Ignis and Gladio. There have been attempts at getting him to accept a third for over a year. He won't take someone he doesn't trust completely." Cor didn't have to say the rest for Prompto to get it. Noctis trusted him. "If you passed basic, you'd be immediately assigned to Noctis' retinue, so your loyalty to him and only him is only a point in your favor."

"I. I see."

"There are plenty of other benefits for you as well. It wouldn't only be our gain."

"Like?" He had an idea of the spiel that was coming. Every employer had a benefits spiel, even if that spiel was just 'Don't expect anything but minimum wage.' That was the spiel at most of the places Prompto had worked, though at Ma's he'd also gotten "I will personally kick the ass of anyone who tries to hurt my employees." It had made him smile. Very Galahdian. Here, at least the benefits spiel would distract from Cor thinking he was someone to compliment.

"A living wage, for one. Even in basic. I wouldn't say it would support the lifestyle of someone extravagant, but you could certainly, say, afford to pay for half the rent in the apartment you're moving into."

Ah. So Cor knew about that. Of course he did. Probably for security reasons. That was probably a lot of money to him then. Prompto wasn't sure he could afford to pay a quarter of the rent on Ignis' apartment now. Not that he knew how much the rent was. Ignis wouldn't tell him, probably because he knew he couldn't afford it.

Cor continued on. "You'll get a week's worth of paid leave for every three months you're on. Medical care is one hundred percent covered, including for things one might not consider strictly essential." Cor paused. "You can thank Noctis for that one. It's new, and I hear he pushed for it very hard." Prompto was going to have to ask Noctis exactly what that meant then. "There's a yearly pay raise, and a more significant one when you're promoted."

"That all sounds pretty nice."

"There's more, but just one more that I wanted to bring up with you specifically."

"Yeah?"

"I know you work. You said so this morning. Do you attend college? University?"

"No," he grumbled, knowing Cor had unknowingly hit a sore spot. "I want to!" he put in quickly. "But I can't afford it. That's . . . kind of why I'm working, anyway." He didn't exactly have a lot of bills. His parents had paid for everything at home, and now he had the more and more sinking suspicion that Ignis was going to pay for everything here. (He hated that. Not being equal.) He mostly paid for his own phone stuff and any little things, like pizza when they all went out or clothes. He was always able to save a little.

It sounded like if he joined the Crownsguard he'd be able to save a lot more, for someday.

"That's what I thought. Well, the Guard would pay for that too. In full. Up front."

Prompto narrowed his eyes. "You know what they say about things that sound too good to be true?"

At that, Cor laughed. He actually laughed. It sounded wrong. Cor the Immortal shouldn't laugh. He should be stabbing him. With his sword. "I promise, it's true. Though you will have to be on the guard for a year." That. That wasn't bad at all. He'd been planning on waiting for at least three more years before attempting to attend college. One year was obviously way less than that.

"Here." Cor slid a thing that looked like it was a brochure across his desk. "I cannot make you join, but I would like you to consider it. I mean what I say, Prompto. You would be a great cadet on many levels, and I think it would be good for you too."

Prompto reached across and took the brochure. He had difficulty believing it, but promising to think about something wasn't really too much to ask, was it? "I will. I'll think about it."

"Call me with your decision, either way."

"Okay."

Cor leaned back in his chair for a moment, eyes on him like he was trying to size him up. "Why don't you go see Ignis? I'll call and let someone know you're coming."

"It's okay. We're going to be meeting up for coffee in a little bit."

"Is that so?"

Prompto nodded his head a little. "Yeah."

"Then don't let me keep you."

Prompto didn't know the Bee's Knees cafe. He'd never been. After all, he usually avoided the Citadel in general. It had been Ignis' suggestion, though, after he'd texted him about the meeting with Cor. He was like 98% sure that Gladio was coming too. That was cool. Maybe it'd help calm down his freak out.

The answer to that last bit was absolutely not. Ignis himself wasn't really helping. He said it was an "enticing possibility" and "he'd be up to the task." They were nice things to say. They were pretty words out of Ignis' equally pretty mouth, but Prompto didn't really believe they were true, even after reassurances that they were. It wasn't even that he thought Ignis was lying, not really. It was just. How. How could it be possible? That he'd be good at it? How could it be that not only Ignis, but also Cor the Immortal thought so?

He couldn't deal with it, so he moved the topic along to the depressing fact that Ignis would likely not come home that night, followed by the unwelcome news that Clarus Amicitia had "put two and two together and come up with three" as Ignis had so nicely put it. Prompto supposed that eventually he would have had to deal with this, anyway. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. The Shield of the King (and probably everyone else too) knew that they were all dating now. The problem was likely him . . .

Oh gods. Sweet Six. Was that why Cor had asked him about the Crownsguard? The idea was horrifying, only to be topped by Ignis actually swearing aloud . . . and in public. It was joyful. It was scandalous. Above all, it was surprising.

It was in that moment that Gladio joined them, and he seemed . . . down. His words had enough pep, but his eyes said depressed. If he'd been lectured by his father. Well. Prompto supposed he couldn't blame him. It was probably good to talk a bit about it to them, and it seemed like Ignis was right. He wasn't going to break up with them to please his father. That was comforting, as was the kiss he pulled Ignis into as he made to go. (Sadness, he'd only been able to stay for like fifteen minutes. It wasn't long enough, but then, it never was.)

The door had just barely shut behind Ignis when Gladio drew his attention back to him. "Is it really all right if I spend the night again?"

"We said it was, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but is it all right with you? Sans Iggy."

"Yeah! Sleeping alone is no fun in Iggy's bed. It's too big."

"Okay. I think I'll take you both up on the offer then. I'll come by after my work is done."

"Cool. Cool."

"I can bring Galahdian takeout? The actual spicy stuff that Iggy and Noct can't handle?"

For the first time since arriving, Prompto smiled into his cup. "Sounds perfect."

Gladio had needed to leave soon after that too, and it was about seven o'clock when Gladio arrived with takeout that was the perfect amount of spicy for him, but probably would have burned the tongue right out of Ignis' mouth. What was surprising to him was how well Gladio was handling it. He knew he could handle it better than Ignis or Noctis, but Prompto knew that something this spicy was pretty damn spicy to a normal person. Toward the end of their meal, he gathered the courage to ask. Gladio laughed.

"I think Mom would have disowned me if I hadn't been able to handle her native cuisine."

That statement sunk in all too slowly. "Wait. You're part Galahdian?!"

"Half." A pause. "You didn't know?"

"No!"

Another, longer pause. At the end of it, Gladio shrugged his shoulders. "Surprise." That was all they said about it. Perhaps that was for the best. Prompto didn't need anymore ground shattering revelations today. (Why did that explain so much though? Things he'd never even questioned! Why?) They finished their meal in silence that Prompto couldn't call uncomfortable. Gladio's face was too amused for it to be uncomfortable.

Afterward they went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. (Those dishes were going to be perfect. Ignis would have no complaints when he saw them.) That was when Gladio asked his own question. "I heard you had a meeting with Cor today. How'd that go?"

"Fine. First part was just going over Saturday."

"Second part?"

Prompto chewed on the inside of his cheek. "How would you feel about the idea of me joining the Crownsguard?"

"I would that would be a damn good idea," Gladio responded without any hesitation at all.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. I said that you need to learn to throw a punch. Guard would do a lot more for you than that. Noct needs a third retainer. You'd solve that problem too." For a minute or so, Prompto thought that would be all Gladio would say on the matter, but then he opened his mouth again. "Look. Think about it, but know this: Cor doesn't handpick recruits very often. He wouldn't suggest it if he weren't very serious about it."

"He gave me a pamphlet."

"You should read it."

He did, later, while they were in bed. The light on the table was on, but Gladio said that didn't bother him, and by the way his breathing evened out within ten minutes, he'd been telling the truth. The pamphlet was too thick and heavy in his hands for a normal pamphlet, but like most pamphlets it was filled with pictures that cast the Crownsguard in a good light and bullet points. A lot of the bullet points were things that Cor had gone over with him. Some of them were more specific. Like the salary. Prompto was pretty sure that starting number was more than he'd made in his entire life. For one year. It was daunting.

Prompto let the pamphlet fall to his chest with a sigh. Cor was right. He'd be working at that restaurant for the rest of his life trying to save up for art school. He was already close to Noctis, and that was clearly starting to mean dangerous situations that had ended up okay so far, but what if they didn't in the future, because he couldn't defend himself? If Noctis really was looking for someone to complete his retinue . . . well, then he wouldn't just be the outsider, the liability, would he? He'd belong. Long term.

The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea. The more he thought about it, the more terrifying it became, because he started to want it.

At some point, he'd definitely fallen asleep, because he woke up to darkness and the feel of Gladio's head on his chest. Ignis still wasn't home. That meant he probably wouldn't be coming home. That was sad, but it was hard to stay sad when he lifted a hand to run his fingers through Gladio's hair, and the man leaned into it while still fast asleep. Gladio wasn't a cute man, but that was definitely adorable. Prompto smiled. He fell back asleep with his fingers still in his hair.

When his alarm went off in the morning, they both got up and went for a run, and when they came back. Gladio sent Prompto off to the shower first. When he emerged, there was fruit waiting for him and properly heated Poptarts. "You should eat them," Gladio said, "before Ignis throws them out."

"It's fine. I can buy more."

Gladio chuckled and then coughed. Prompto frowned. "How is that doing? Your hana?"

"Better. I didn't let it get really bad to begin with, but it's getting better."

"Promise?"

Prompto didn't see Gladio's smile, but he felt it when large hands pulled his face up into a kiss. Thumbs stroked at his cheeks, and Prompto felt like he could fall asleep just like that. It was so relaxing. "I promise, baby." Lips pressed against his forehead, and then Gladio was gone to take his own shower. When he emerged, it was time for them both to get to work. Goodbye was sad, but it wasn't forever, and work kept him busy. It was so busy that day that he in fact didn't have much time to think about anything at all. When he got back home, he fell into Ignis' bed and slept for two straight hours.

When he woke, the clock read 3:59, and he groggily changed into something appropriate for being seen in before he scooped Ms. Marbles off the end of the bed to go lay on the couch and play some King's Knight. Because he was a lame ass person who didn't have anything else to do in moments between work and being occupied by the three people in his orbit. mhen he opened his phone, though, he found he had texts. From Noctis. While Noctis was at work. Being the crown prince.

**Noctis, 2:37 p.m.** : _I swear Specs and I are going home early today._  
_He won't admit it. He's dead tired._

Prompto chuckled at the next text that had come a few minutes later.

**Noctis: 2:45 p.m.** : _I will fucking drag him. I knew he wasn't fully recovered!_

Prompto had the distinct impression that Noctis didn't know Ignis had stayed at work overnight. He decided he wasn't going to be the one to tell him. Even as he opened up this keyboard to reply with something encouraging, another text came in.

**Noctis, 4:11 p.m.** : _omw. our. way. Warning. He's bringing work shit home with him._  
**Prompto: 4:11 p.m.** : _Prepared._ :thumbsup:

It wasn't like Ignis didn't have an office in the apartment that he could spread out in when he got home. At least here, Prompto could make him eat dinner (and perhaps order it himself without Ignis noticing). Later on, he could coax him to bed. Maybe it wouldn't even be hard. In the meantime, though, he had a purr monster on his chest and a game to grind in. When Ignis got home, he'd leave him be and maybe go see Noctis. He hadn't seen him since the incident, after all.

It was almost five when the door opened, and he tucked the kitten under his arm as well as almost dropped his phone in his haste to get up. Sure enough, there was a very tired Ignis with a work case that seemed to be almost bursting. "Hello, darling." He set down his case, and Prompto took that opportunity for what it was - a hug opening. His hug was one armed because he still had the cat, but it still felt good to be in Ignis' embrace again after more than a day without seeing him. Perhaps he was getting too used to having him around.

"I missed you," he mumbled into Ignis' shoulder.

"And I you." Ignis kissed the side of his head as he pulled back. "But I do have to continue my work."

"You look exhausted, though. Can't you take a small nap first?"

"Unfortunately, no. I promise you no late night tonight."

"I'm gonna hold you to that."

"Naturally." They shared an all too brief kiss before Ignis picked his case back up and began to head toward his office.

"I'm gonna head down to Noct's for a bit, okay?"

"Please do." Prompto smiled and purposely did not add that he'd head down to that place that made Ignis' favorite paella too. That could be a surprise. For later.

He didn't quite run down the stairwells to Noctis' floor, and he found himself in front of his door within two minutes. It opened for him nearly as soon as he knocked. Noctis' smile greeted him as he slipped off his shoes. "Specs kick you out already?"

"Nah, not kick out. I just thought I'd come hang with you for an hour before I got dinner."

"Good idea. Don't let him cook."

They settled into the couch in no time flat. Nothing strenuous today, nothing with an actual plot, just racing cars along tracks, grabbing power ups, and shit talking one another. They carried on like that for about half an hour until Prompto discovered that there was a stone of dread building up in his gut and he paused the game. "Hey. What's up?" Noctis asked when Prompto didn't all but jump up from the sofa to use the bathroom. "Something wrong?"

"Not really. Just uh. I wanted to ask you something."

"Something serious?" There was something quite adorable about the way that Noctis quickly put his controller down on the table to give him his full attention. He pulled a small smile from him before he took a deep breath.

There was really nothing to do but say it. It couldn't be that different from asking Ignis and Gladio. Right? "How would you feel about me joining the Crownsguard?"

"Oh." That was all Noctis said for an agonizing amount of time. When he did finally speak again, they weren't the words he'd been hoping to hear. "I wouldn't like it."

Prompto felt like the pit of his stomach dropped out of his body. "Oh. No?"

"No. Not at all."

"Why not?"

"Why. Why would I?" Noctis shrugged his shoulders up against his neck, and Prompto got a full view of the shudder that wracked his body in that moment. "There'd be nothing good about it."

Prompto picked at his nails. He shouldn't have asked. He should have just assumed it was a bad idea. Of course it was, but this hurt too. It hurt a lot. "They say you're looking for a third retainer."

"No. No way. That would be even worse. I." Noctis took in a giant, gasping breath. "I would never want you to bind yourself to me."

"Okay, now you're just being insulting."

"I am not!"

"You really are." How was it not insulting? How was it not insulting to say that the idea of him being tied to him specifically was worse than him just being in the Crownsguard? "Both Ignis and Gladio think it would be a good idea."

"Yeah! Because you wouldn't be fucking tied to them!"

"See? That's insulting!" Not that he could marry either Ignis or Gladio, but if he could, would this be how Noctis would react to that idea? They wouldn't want to be tied down? What a ridiculous idea! "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm already consider myself tied to you?!" They were already friends. He would already do anything for Noctis. What was the problem with making it something that everyone could see?! "You won't even consider it!"

"You don't know what it's like!"

"Yeah? Then tell me!" It was a challenge he knew Noctis wouldn't take. It wasn't like he didn't have a pretty clear idea anyway. Noctis had made it clear. He didn't want him around as anything more than casual. He didn't want him around . . . perhaps at all.

As predicted, after a couple of moments, Noctis floundered and then shook his head furiously. "You just do whatever the fuck you want."

"Fine. I will." To demonstrate, he got up, put on his shoes, and left. Noctis didn't try to stop him.

His legs went as fast as they could while still considered to be walking. They took him out of the apartment building, all the way down to the Altissian place that he knew served paella, paced their storefront while he waited, and then walked that same pace all the way back up to Ignis' apartment. He hadn't cried yet. He'd been taking deep breaths so that people wouldn't think he was some stupid freak crying in the takeout place. It was harder now inside the apartment. Except he wasn't actually alone, and that meant he still couldn't cry. Instead of crying, he tried to smile as widely as he could.

Ignis had left the door to his office open, which Prompto knew meant that he was welcome to come in, but he paused at the doorway and knocked on the frame anyway. "Knock knock. Break time. I brought food."

His voice must have passed the test, because Ignis didn't immediately hound him. Instead he delayed his answer by closing something or another on his laptop before turning his beautiful face toward him. "You didn't have to." He paused just for a moment. "What's wrong?"

Ah. His face wasn't cheery enough. He did his best to correct that, but it was probably already too late. "Nothing. Come on. I got you paella."

Ignis insisted on replating both of their dishes, even though Prompto had zero problems eating chicken parm out of a Styrofoam container. He still looked really tired, and Prompto managed to distract himself a little by trying to figure out exactly how early he could get away with dragging Ignis to bed. He had decided that ten o'clock was probably the earliest he could get away with when Ignis sat his bowl down with a soft clack and a sigh. "Please tell me what's wrong, Darling."

"I said nothing, didn't I?"

"And that was a lie."

Prompto narrowed his eyes. "Do you always know when I'm lying?"

Ignis smiled indulgently. "I like to think so. Just as I like to think I always know when you're changing the subject."

Dammit.

He took in a deep breath. Looked like he wasn't getting out of this. "I asked Noct about joining the Crownsguard."

"Ah. He didn't react positively, I take it."

"No. He didn't." Prompto hoped Ignis would leave it at that, because the more he talked about it the more he would want to cry. He'd been down to about twenty percent. Now he was back up to fifty percent. If he talked anymore about it, he'd surely get to actual tears very quickly.

Of course, his wishes weren't answered, and Ignis pressed further. "What did he say?"

"That he didn't want me." Oh gods, his voice was getting higher, and his eyes were looking at the floor and nothing but the floor. Yep. Yep. Crying was just around the corner.

"I'm sure that's not what he said. What did he say verbatim?" Okay. With a great deep breath he was able to not look at the floor and instead stared right at Ignis' face with his lips pursed. Sooner or later, staring would make Ignis remember that he had an absolute stupid idiot for a boyfriend who definitely had no idea what the fuck 'verbatim' meant. It took about ten seconds for Ignis' cheeks to get a dusting of pink to them. He coughed once and then said, sounding as though he'd been thoroughly shamed, "word for word."

Yep, he was never going to remember that. "He said he didn't want me tied to him. He def also said you and Gladio were only okay with it, because it wasn't you guys I'd be tied to."

"Ah." Ignis sighed. "I can say with certainty, then, that he didn't mean he doesn't want you."

Prompto rolled his eyes. Not out of disbelief (though there was that, too) so much as doing it stopped the tears a little. "How else am I supposed to take that?!"

"I know we once had a conversation, perhaps we've had it more than once. Before." Ignis paused, letting the word sink in. It wasn't all that often that Ignis acknowledged how much he didn't remember, and when he wasn't telling him stories about it, Prompto tried not to bring it up, either. "About how you view Noctis as a friend first and prince second."

"I remember." He did. He remembered his lungs being full to bursting with goldenrod. He remembered not being heard. He remembered that it had only mattered how Noctis had felt.

"Noctis enjoys something with you that he'd never had - a friendship chosen. At this moment, he's probably deeply afraid of losing it to the duty and honor that would be drilled into you at basic. He's not wrong. There would be a shift, but in truth Gladio and I both know you'd already take a bullet for him."

It wasn't a question, but Prompto nodded his head anyway. "I would. I'd die for Noct. I'd know it was worth it." He'd die for any of them, really. Happily.

"Then the reality is that nothing would change between you. Nothing significant. He would come around when he saw that." Prompto wasn't really sure he believed that, but Ignis didn't give him much time to think it over before moving on. "Did he outright tell you not to join?"

"No. Actually, at the end he said I could do whatever the fuck I wanted."

Ignis chuckled dryly. "That certainly sounds like permission to me." He glanced over at the clock. "The marshal will be in his office for another half an hour, if you find you've made up your mind."

It was probably a rash decision, but he had. Ignis left him alone at the table while he called, and when he hung up again, a mug of cocoa was being set in front of him. Prompto frowned at it. He'd wanted Ignis to rest, not do more work for him. "And what did he say?"

"He's got the paperwork ready to go. He wants me to put my notice in at work tomorrow and then go down for the stuff I have to do in person so I can start with the newest cadets in two weeks."

"Sounds like he had your timeline all set up. I have no doubt that you'll fulfill every one of his expectations." One arm wrapped around his shoulders, and Ignis leaned down to kiss the top of his head. "Do you feel any better?"

Prompto nodded, even though he didn't really. Noctis still didn't want him, after all. He was just doing what Noctis didn't want. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Perhaps because he wasn't looking at his face this time, Ignis didn't seem to catch his lie. After another minute, he left to go back into his office, and Prompto was left alone with cocoa and a kitten until he decided it was time to fight the battle for bedtime.

When he put in his two weeks the next day, Ma had a two-sided reaction. It was the same sort of reaction that she had about everything, it seemed. One side of it was disappointment that she was losing a good worker. The other side of it was a preemptive fury that she would rain down upon them if his new employers didn't treat him well and the promise that he could return if it didn't work out. Not for the first time, Prompto wondered if Galahdians were just Like That (tm). The longer he knew Galahdians, the more sure he was that the answer was yes.

After work, he stopped at home to change and freshen up before heading back out to head down to recruitment. Even with the directions Cor had given him, it took him ten minutes to actually find it and the middle aged man sitting behind the desk. They were the only two in the office. Wednesday was probably not a popular day for signing up. "You Argentum?"

The question, especially by name, took Prompto by surprise. "Ye-yeah, that's me."

The man, who's face seemed to be stuck in a permanent bored expression, nodded. "I was told you'd be by. You missed a couple of signatures in your paperwork." A manila folder was slapped down on the desk in front of him, and Prompto picked it up, along with a pen from a cup full of them. He found himself wondering what the recruiter meant by he'd missed a couple signatures until he actually started flipping through the pages. It looked like all these blanks were things he should have filled out himself, but instead someone else had in tiny yet neat handwriting that Prompto didn't recognize. He had a sinking suspicion it was Cor's. Cor the Immortal had filled out his recruitment paperwork for him. Maybe Gladio had been right about how much Cor wanted him to sign up.

He took his time reading through it, knowing that Ignis could scold him if he ever found out he hadn't. He was a slow and stupid reader, but the pages didn't use a lot of legal lingo, and the recruiter seemed the exact opposite of interested in speeding him up. Eventually, though, he was putting his signature on the last page and handing it back over. "What's next?" Because it couldn't just be signing his name a couple times. Definitely not.

"Next," the man said as he took out an ancient-seeming yet probably very expensive, if Prompto were to give his educated guess, camera, "is your identifying marks."

A small ball of panic settled inside his guts. "My what?"

"You know, your marks. Things like piercings, tattoos, scars, unique moles or birthmarks. Things like that. We need to know that. In case someone tries to impersonate you."

Prompto was just close enough to this sort of thing already to know that wasn't the whole truth. The whole truth was probably more like . . . if he died, and his face was messed up, they could look through his other marks. He rubbed at his wrist.

"Do you have any? Or is it just the freckles?"

He considered lying. He really did. He didn't want it to be public knowledge. He didn't want it to be something people could just look in a file and find. A barcode, like he was some item to buy. He thought about it. After a moment he nodded his head. "I have . . . one." He wasn't going to start this off on the wrong foot. What about if they found out about it later? What if he'd made it really far, and they kicked him out for hiding something vital? He'd always hated it, always hid it, but it was just a barcode. It was just a tattoo.

"All right, let's see it then."

It was almost painful for him to actually pull off the wristband he wore. It was even harder for him to lean over and show it to the recruiter. For a long moment, he waited. Anxiety clawed at his insides, but he kept trying to be rational. It was just a tattoo. Just a tattoo, the guy was going to think it was weird, and then he'd make up some story about a bet or something. The picture would be taken, and he could move on with his life. That was going to be it.

It wasn't.

After a moment the recruiter looked him straight in the face and yanked him down to the desk by the arm. The motion was so sudden and painful that he almost missed the words the man said next. "Prompto Argentum, I am placing you under arrest for treason and conspiracy."

"I'm what?!"

The recruiter repeated himself. It didn't make any more sense the second time. It didn't make any more sense the thousandth time he repeated it in his head as handcuffs were placed around his wrists and he was hauled off to the single cell that the recruitment facility seemed to have. He didn't fight. What was he going to do? Beat up a Crownsguard? Instead he seemed to go limp. His brain couldn't work. He just let it happen.

He was locked in the cell and the recruiter, his jailer, left for a minute and then came back to lean against the wall and glare at him. "Someone will be by soon to take you to a proper facility."

"I. I." He stammered out. He had to get a hold of himself. He wanted to understand! "What did I do?"

"Perhaps nothing, yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"Why? What does my tattoo have to do with what I'll do in the future?!"

"Tattoo." The man snorted, as though the word were a joke. He glanced up at Prompto's face, and then snorted again. "You really don't know, do you?"

"Know what?!"

"You're not human. You're just a monster wearing a human's face." The man didn't let that sink in at all before he continued on. "I've been here a long time. I've been here long enough to remember the Magitek Program. Do they teach it? In school? Your face says no. They should. The basics of that case follow that there were nearly a hundred children found in a Niflheim Factory. It was later discovered that these weren't stolen children. No. They were grown in tubes. Set to be turned into machines for killing. Killing Lucians. The Niflheim army would destroy us without the loss of a single human life on their side, because there were no humans."

"That. That can't be true." His insides went boneless, and he leaned against the cell wall knowing that it was all that kept him up.

"It is. The things all had barcodes just like yours. They were released into society before we could know their true capabilities. Soulless monsters in our midst, just waiting. I'll give you this: you've done a good job pretending you're one of us."

Prompto sank down to the floor. His legs wouldn't hold him anymore. He'd heard insults before. Niff. Traitor. Refugee. He'd heard other deeper insults, too. Blonds weren't the only ones who were called terrible things. It was part of why he'd sought a job at Ma's. Galahdians got it worse, even. Lucians, but not. He thought he'd heard it all. He'd never heard this, and that was what made it stick for truth. No one would just make that up. It had to be true. It even made sense.

He had no idea where he came from, truly. Niflheim was his background, that much was obvious, but his parents had no idea where he'd been before his adoption. No one had ever been able to tell him until now. Now he knew. Now he knew he came from a factory where he hadn't even been born. He'd been grown. Made. Not even human.

It all made sense.

"Look, you've even learned to mimic crying."

He turned his face away.

They should just kill him and be done with it.

Neither of them talked after that for a long time. They sat in silence until somewhere outside of the room there came a noise. It sounded like someone had come in the recruitment office. The recruiter must have agreed, because he got up and left, closing the door behind him.

For a few moments, there was silence, and then Prompto heard a muffled explosion of sound as someone started yelling, near screaming. It took a few more moments for Prompto's brain to process that the yelling he was hearing sounded an awful lot like Cor the Immortal. The yelling went on for a long time, punctuated by short quiets where another voice, the recruiter's, filled it in much softer tones.

All at once, the door opened and there was indeed Cor the Immortal standing like a knight in shining armor, keys in his hands. He unlocked the cell door and then knelt down on one knee in front of Prompto. His voice spoke softly. "Come on, Prompto. Hands up." His hands shook as he obeyed. As though he could sense that Prompto was physically unable to keep them still, he hooked a finger around the chain and held it firmly while he slid the keys into each one.

The cuffs fell free. Prompto resisted the urge to rub his wrists. He was never touching his wrists again. They were poison. "Come on. Up." Cor didn't offer him any help, which he was grateful for. He didn't want to be touched, or helped, or looked at. Maybe never again. That would probably be for the best. Who would want to touch him, anyway?

Cor led him out of the cell room and through the recruitment office. He paused only to swivel his head at the recruiter. "I will be back for you. Do not go anywhere."

"Yes, sir."

Outside the office, the November chill bit into his arms and the sound of cars rolling by thundered in his ears. He didn't move for a moment, and when he did it was only because he was startled by Cor offering him his wristband. "I don't know what he said exactly, but you're not a sleeper agent."

Prompto slid the wristband back on over his barcode. He was never taking it off again. Never. Not for as long as he lived. Not for anyone. It all made sense now. "He didn't say sleeper agent to me. He said monster. Grown in a test tube. Meant to kill people."

Cor was silent for almost too long. "There were a lot of children rescued from that facility. That's what they were. Children. That's what you were. A child. It never mattered to anyone who worked that case how they came to be. You were children who needed help."

It did matter. For so long he'd wondered, and now he knew, and it was far worse than anything he'd ever imagined. Did his parents know? Is that why they'd chosen work over staying home and only being able to love him from afar? Surely, that had to be true. Anyone who knew wouldn't be able to love him face to face. A monster. Not human. Meant to kill people.

Oh Gods. Ignis. Gladio. Noctis. He could never see them again. He could never face them again. "I have to go."

"Wait. Why don't you come up to my office? Gladio won't be available for another hour or so, but I'll pull Ignis out of a meeting myself if I must."

No. He couldn't face them. He wasn't what they'd thought he was. He'd tricked them. He'd made them think he was human. He'd made them think he was a person! "I have to go." He didn't wait for an answer this time. He just let his legs take him, and Cor didn't follow.

He had no idea where he was going, why he was going there, or how far he'd run until his legs stopped short outside his parents home. All at once it came together. Yes. He came here so he could go. Away. Forever. Somewhere he'd never be found. He couldn't go back to Ignis' apartment (not his, not anymore). The things he'd taken there were a lost cause, but he could take some of the things he still had here. Withdraw all his money from the bank, and that would be enough to . . . well. It'd get him out of the city. Out of the city would be enough. He could go from there.

It took him far too many tries to actually get his key in the lock, but once he did, he dashed for the stairs. About halfway up, his phone rang with Ignis' personal chime. He turned his phone off. All the way off. He didn't want to hear what Ignis was going to say. He didn't want to hear the disgust. He didn't want to hear him break up with him. He could just hear it now.

_"I can't believe I kissed you. I can't believe you slept in my bed."_

The tears came to his eyes unbidden, and the recruiter's voice filled his brain.

_"Look, you've even learned to mimic crying."_

He was even able to fool himself.

He wasn't going to be able to take a lot with him, and that was okay, because, well, he wasn't going to live all that long, now was he? He wasn't exactly looking for a life of comfort. Just a life away. A life he deserved. Who cared if the soulless monster was happy? He wasn't going to hurt anyone. Just a change of clothes or two and some hygiene things would do.

He took his phone out of his pocket. He should leave it. Phones could be useful for things other than calling people, but he should leave it. Maybe he'd pick up a burner for things like GPS. This one needed to be left behind. If he had his phone with all the numbers of his loved ones . . . no. Not loved ones. People he'd tricked into thinking he cared. It was too much temptation.

He needed to get to the bank before five, and then he needed to--

The doorbell sounded. Fuck. Someone was here. He couldn't go out that way. If only he hadn't lingered here for two more minutes. Of course, someone would come looking for him here. Maybe. Maybe if he just stayed really still and didn't answer, they'd think he wasn't here. His phone was off. They couldn't track it. The doorbell rang again, immediately followed by banging on the door. A second after Ignis' voice reached his ears. "Prompto! I know you're in there!"

Shit. Of course Ignis came. It wasn't like him to send other people to do his dirty work. Of course, it was Ignis. Gladio was busy. Noctis would be, too. It was Wednesday, their training day. Ignis could always make time for one more thing. Today it was dealing with his soulless shell of a boyfriend. Ex. Boyfriend.

The banging stopped. He heard the door downstairs open. He swore that he'd locked that door. It was Ignis. Of course, he could pick locks in ten seconds flat. He dropped his bag. He went for the window. He hadn't even gotten the screen open by the time Ignis was in his room. "Prompto." Ignis said, his voice filled with something Prompto might have called sadness if they living in a different timeline. "Darling. Don't." A hand appeared beside his head and pushed the window back down. His hands barely had time to jump out of the way. "Don't do this. Come home. With me. We'll talk about what happened."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Of course, there is. Something clearly happened this afternoon."

"Something," he repeated in disbelief.

"Yes. Something. I don't know what. The Marshal pulled me from my meeting to tell me that he thought you were seeking to flee Insomnia. That was all I needed to know. Until now. Now I have you in my sights. Now we can discuss it."

He didn't know. He didn't know, but it was only a matter of time. He could keep it to himself, say he just changed his mind, but tomorrow he'd go into work and there would be rumors or a file on his desk. He'd ask Cor about it. Or the recruiter would tell him himself. He didn't know now, but not telling him was only delaying the inevitable. He may as well tell him, and then they'd break up. Maybe he'd let him leave. Maybe he'd drag him back to turn himself in properly.

"Please tell me what happened."

It was hard to get the words together. It was hard to talk without crying. The version of events that Ignis got was jerky and fragmented at best, but he did it. He told him about going down to the recruitment office and looking through the paperwork. No problems there. He told him about the next step of recording identifying marks. At that point Ignis had made a soft sound. It must have been confusion, because Ignis would know in his own mind that he didn't have any. "I do have one," he'd told him then. "You've never seen it."

He continued on. He said how he'd considered lying about it, because it was shameful, even though he'd had no idea what it meant and he'd had it for as long as he could remember. The recruiter had known. The recruiter had arrested him for it. "He won't be there after today," Ignis said with absolute certainty. "He did the wrong thing."

"You. You will change your mind."

"No." Ignis said firmly. "No, I won't."

"He told me what it was."

"And what lies did he feed you?"

Prompto tried to tell Ignis _verbatim_ what the recruiter had said. He knew he didn't get it quite right. He knew he embellished or lacked in spots. He got the soulless monster, meant to be a soldier that killed people without care, grown in a tube. He got that across. He knew he did. He knew that when he looked up at Ignis' face he should see the disgust. He should see the shock. Instead he saw a calm fury not directed at him. No. He would know if that fury was directed at him.

"I knew about the Magitek Incident," Ignis told him very softly, and he continued on quickly when Prompto opened his mouth. "I knew you were born of it. You haven't told me anything new, Prompto. Nothing except that there's a bit of weeding to be done within the Crownsguard."

"You knew?" Prompto got past his throat, which was threatening to completely close up on him. "You knew I was a monster?! You knew I was branded like a toy in a shop?!"

Ignis sighed. "You. You are not a monster. You're anything but. However, when one runs a background check on you--"

"This comes up in background checks?!" Why would they have ever let him close to Noctis?! Why--

"No! Not at a normal level!" Ignis sighed. Oh gods, he was doing the nose pinch thing. "I looked it up after I had my surgery. At the time, I could see that there were very early records. They were redacted. Unavailable to me. I . . . I let it be for months. I was told it was nothing important. Nothing that would affect the prince. That was all I needed to know, really, but, I . . ." Ignis' voice trailed off for a second and he gave a soft self-depreciating laugh that sounded unnatural from his lips. "I don't like not knowing things. So I got access."

"When."

"March." Ignis said quickly. "It was in March. Cor told me to not tell you. He said you didn't know. He said you didn't need to know. I agreed. Perhaps . . . that was wrong. I could have at least spared this turmoil. I would have told you immediately, had I known you'd find out like this."

Prompto wasn't much listening to what was really an apology from Ignis. Why should he listen to that? There was nothing for him to be sorry for. No. Prompto was still stuck back on "March?"

"Yes. March."

"And you stayed with me after learning that?"

"Of course, I did! It changed nothing!"

"It changes everything! How can you think that it changes nothing?! Ignis. I'm. I'm not even a person!"

"That's not true! That is a lie he fed you because he's an ignorant man who wouldn't know truth if it bit him! You are a person! You're a person I love very much, and I will not let you go! Not for this!"

"Love?" Prompto repeated softly, his brain having found a new word to obsess over. Love. The ground didn't feel stable beneath his feet. Love. They'd never said that word between them. Never. Prompto had felt it for some time. Of course, he had. He'd had flowers bursting out his chest. He'd probably felt it since then, but Ignis . . . Ignis had his flowers removed. His feelings and memories had to start from scratch. They could sleep together, go on dates together, kiss, cuddle, even live together without it being love. He had resolved that he would not scare Ignis away with the word. Yet here it was that Ignis was saying it instead. "You love me?"

"Yes," Ignis said as he took a step toward him. "I love you," He reached out and took Prompto's wrists in his hands. Prompto didn't fight him. The barcode under his band burned at the contact, but he didn't pull his hands away. "More with each passing day." His thumb rubbed over the spot where the barcode lay hidden. "Please don't take that away from me."

That was when Prompto felt he broke. His legs all but gave way beneath him, and he practically fell into Ignis' chest sobbing. It seemed like Ignis fell with him, because the next thing he knew they were both on the ground, his head closer to Ignis' lap than his neck. He was keenly aware of Ignis' fingers in his hair, and he was far less aware that he was talking on the phone, though his brain processed the words.

"No. I don't care what you two are doing. -- I just said that I do not care. I need you here, now. The both of you. -- The other can wait." Ignis' fingers paused to rub circles into his temple. "This is far more important."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cor: *busts open the council room doors*  
Cor: Excuse me, Majesty, but I need to borrow this.  
Cor: *drags Ignis out by the back of his chair*


	12. Gladiolus

When Gladio was little, he’d adored his mother, practically worshiping the ground she walked on. She had been beautiful and tough, fierce, strong, and proud . . . everything an Amicitia should be, and about as perfect a match as Clarus could have hoped for. The council had hated her – likely due to her Galahdian heritage rather than any legitimate reason – but Clarus Amicitia had always claimed to adore her from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, despite (or perhaps a little because of) the violence of the situation. He’d loved to tell the story about how Eyla and her kin had saved them from the largest damn coeurls he’d ever seen before or since, usually with his wife ribbing good naturedly about sissy Lucians needing their asses saved.

After Lady Amicitia had died, Clarus had become distant – from his children, from his friends, even from himself to some extent. Over the years, he’d healed, had warmed, particularly when it came to his youngest, who bore the least of the weight of duty. Who might live a normal life, should she so choose it. But he’d never completely thawed when it came to Gladio and the shared weight of their duty, and in the shadow of his lost mother, Gladio had never fully thawed toward his father, either.

As he’d grown over the years, it had become natural to keep things from his father. Not out of stubbornness or maliciousness, but out of a growing need for privacy, a sense that some things could not be shared. Not that it stopped his father from finding things out. After all, half the Citadel knew when a teenage Gladio had started following around one of the newly inducted Kingsglaive, enamoured with literally every single detail about her and excessively willing to telling her all about it. And it had been subject for gossip any time he showed the remotest interest in any girl considered even slightly unsuitable – and he’d received lectures on many of them, to boot. But there were many more that his father never knew about.

Keeping secrets from his little sister, on the other hand, was a whole other story. Iris could ferret out a secret like nobody’s business, and she was particularly good at telling when he was holding something back . . . and blackmailing him until he spilled. Frankly speaking, once they were off the training mat, Iris was far scarier than his father had ever been. And honestly. As she got older. On the training mat, too. After all, Dad only beat him to exhaustion (and beyond). He’d never suplexed him and then refused to help him to a medic until after he confessed to whatever idea she’d gotten into her head this time.

And then there was Prompto and Ignis. Even Iris hadn’t figured out that one, though later she claimed otherwise. Maybe that was because Gladio didn’t know, himself. He didn’t manage to keep that secret long, either, and as far as his father was concerned, it was the worst choice of all. The bullshit of that lecture. A whole bunch of crap about how he was Amicitia and he had to marry a suitable girl and make babies so that the prince’s babies would have a shield someday and blah blah blah.

What a bunch of fucking bullshit.

Getting Galahdian food and spending the night with Prom helped. He wished Ignis could have been there, too, but it wasn’t unusual, he knew, for Ignis to have late nights. And the one on one time with Blondie was more than enjoyable. It was nice to be able to eat Galahdian with someone who liked it as much as he did. Dad couldn’t handle the spice at all – not that they had a lot of dinners together, these days – and while Iris could, her preferences tended more toward sweet rather than spicy. And he definitely wasn’t complaining about getting to cuddle up with Prompto all night in that ridiculously comfortable bed or having a running buddy in the morning. Gods, he fucking adored him. He loved waking up to his sleepy face, cherished that bright, goofy grin when he was high on adrenaline. He was so fucking lucky, he could barely even process it.

After showers and an Ignis-disapproved meal of warm Pop-Tarts, they went their separate ways. Gladio managed to carry the high of an enjoyable night through most of the day, no doubt at least partially due to his total and deliberate avoidance his father. He was just not up for that crap ruining his mood right now.

Avoiding his dad, however, only worked for a day – almost two, before his dad tracked him down for another lecture. Blah blah he was wasting his time, down this path only lay heartache, Gladio would thank him later, you’ll see. Yeah. Fucking. Right.

Not that he could explain that to his father. He couldn’t explain shit to his father, at least not without admitting he’d been lying to him for years, if mostly by omission. And fuck knew if he’d even listen then. Which just left him pissed off and stuck going about his duties anyway. Including training the princess. Sparing with the princess. Whichever.

“Fucking shit, Gladio!” These days, Noct was better about not slacking off on his training, though he still had days when he was whiny or bitchy about it. “Don’t take it out on me!” The prince shot him a nasty look before tossing his training weapon aside and beelining for his water bottle. “ ‘s not my fault your dad’s being an asshole.”

“The fuck is that any of your business?”

“I think it’s pretty much everyone’s business at this point. You know how it is.” Of course, he knew how it was. Everyone fucking knew, and that made it their business, as far as the gossip mill was concerned. The joy of being a public figure and all that. The little shit rolled his eyes, taking a long drink of water before speaking again. “Plus _everyone_ is mad at your dad right now.” Now that definitely wasn’t true. Gladio could think of a few people who were probably wanting to pat him on the back about now. They were fucking assholes, too. “Even _my_ dad was giving him looks.” Like Gladio wasn’t fucking right there when that supposedly happened. Then again, he’d been doing everything he could to avoid looking at his dad at the time, so he couldn’t completely rule it out.

“You here to gossip or you here to train?” Gladio took a long drink from his own water bottle, then hefted his own sword pointedly. He really. Fucking. Did not want to talk about it. Take a hint, princess. “Tell you what, pin me in the next ten minutes and I’ll sweet talk Ignis into making pizza.” That was a tall order, this late in the day. But that just meant he had to not lose.

“Oh, it’s on.” Noct grinned, giving a little snort of a laugh before tossing his bottle aside. That was more like it.

But they were only a few strikes into sparring when they were interrupted by a familiar violin screech. That sound could only mean one thing. Well, two things, but his specially chosen ring tone was way more likely than a psycho killer loose in the training facilities.

“Hold up, my phone.” Normally he ignored his phone while training, but. “It’s Ignis.” And Ignis wasn’t someone who called for no reason, particularly when he knew perfectly well that Gladio and the prince were training. That, and he usually texted. Which was a whole different sound.

“Really, Gladio?” The prince halted, but his disapproval was unmistakable. Presumably not for getting out of training for five whole minutes, deal or no deal, so much as the ringtone he’d chose to assign to his childhood friend. Sure. Assigning a stabby noise from a famous horror movie to Ignis directly after finding out how poorly his new boyfriend handled horror movies was a little insensitive, but you know what else it was? Fucking hilarious, that’s what.

Besides, Ignis had been so sixdamn cute. He was planning to hold onto that memory forever. And repeat the experience, if possible

“Hey, Ignis.” He kept his tone casual, though he was a bit worried. Of course, he was worried. Ignis didn’t just call when he knew they were busy. And Ignis always knew when they were busy. Ignis always knew everyone’s schedule. He was right to be worried, though. He didn’t exactly get much explanation, but it was made damn clear pretty damn fast that they better get their asses in gear and come on over. Something to do with Prom, and honestly? That was explanation enough to get him going. Starting with a quick shower. A fifteen minute shower wasn’t going to make much of a difference when it took more than a half hour to get across town even at top speed.

The drive to Prompto’s – Prompto’s parents, now, technically – was a tense one, for once void of any ribbing or complaining. With Ignis’ car already in the driveway, he parked out on the curb, and if felt like a mere few strides before he was knocking on the front door. It was Ignis, not Prompto, who called for them to enter, and once they followed his voice upstairs, it took exactly zero explanation for him to join them on the floor, pulling both of his boyfriends into the circle of his arms.

After a long moment, the prince joined them, coming to sit next to them and, after a moment of hesitation, gingerly place one hand against the blond’s shoulder. For several minutes, they lingered in the embrace, the blond sniffling softly as he quieted and Gladio himself doing his best to squeeze the sadness right out of them both. But eventually, he had to pull away.

And then it was time for explanations. Gladio had been expecting something monumental, but he couldn’t possibly have predicted reality. He wanted to punch that asshole in the face. He wanted to fucking. Go back in time a few hours and kick him straight into the sun. He wanted to storm Niflheim itself and tear anyone apart who ever thought that experimenting on babies was anywhere in the realm of acceptable. Monster, his ass. Fucking shit.

“It doesn’t matter!” Noct managed to get the words out before him, though he seemed just as pissed about it as Gladio himself was. “Who cares what that asshole thinks?” Judging by the prince’s expression, he cared very much, and he too was planning to do something nasty about it. He’d just have to get in damn line.

“Noct’s right.” And the little shit better enjoy it while it lasted. “I adore you.” He cupped the blond’s face with one hand, thumb stroking across a freckled cheek “A fucking barcode isn’t going to change that.” The blond flinched at the words, and Gladio had a moment to consider if he was, once again, as Ignis so liked to remind him, too sixdamn blunt. “Hey.” His voice softened. “It doesn’t matter where you came from. We’re not going anywhere.”

The blond’s lower lip began to wobble, and just that quickly, big, fat tears began to drip from lavender-blue eyes once more. Gladio scooped him up, hushing him gently as he tucked him against his chest. Prompto clung to him, and for a moment Gladio turned in place before heading for the door. His bedroom was a bit crowded for all four of them, but it was a simple enough matter to maneuver back downstairs and settle on the couch. Noctis joined them shortly, arranging himself on the opposite end as Gladio settled Prompto comfortably in his lap.

Ignis did not sit down. He paced in front of the couch for a few minutes, the left the room. Judging by the noises coming from the . . . kitchen? He was guessing kitchen. Ignis was probably trying to find some cocoa or tea to make. Or even coffee, maybe. Something warm. But the noises seemed to last an awfully long time, and after a while, Gladio just tuned it out, focusing instead on Prompto, on running fingers soothingly through blond hair, one hand pressed against his back as he settled once more, tucking himself more firmly into Gladio’s lap.

When the house finally fell quiet again, he jolted to alertness, for a moment only aware that something had changed. Prompto had dozed off in his lap, limp even in the loose grasp he held on his shirt. Noctis was still on the other end of the couch, sleeping also, because of course he was. The brat could literally fall asleep anywhere, and anywhere included on his best friend’s couch right after finding out said friend had been arrested just for existing. Fucking hell.

Before he could convince himself to pry the sleeping blond off him, Ignis strode into the room, still full of anxious energy. Gladio had no fucking idea what he’d been doing, as he arrived empty-handed, and with barely a glance at the couch, began to stride back and forth the length of the room. Pacing. That was always a good sign.

Eventually, the pacing stopped, and Ignis stood in place, phone out, typing furiously away with his thumbs. He paused, stared at the phone screen for a long moment, then sighed and stuffed the device back into his pocket, immediately returning to pacing, but at an increased pace. He looked like he wanted to tear the floor boards themselves apart. And Gladio was already fed up.

“Hey, Ignis.” Ignis didn’t react. Of course, he didn’t flinch. He knew Gladio was awake. Ignis was especially alert, now. “Sit down.” Still no response. It was hard to say if he was outright ignoring him or just too damn focused on whatever he was planning. Because make no mistake, he was clearly working something out. And really, either amounted to the same thing.

“Ignis,” he tried again. He had to make it good or he was just going to get ignored again. He had to make him _listen_. Because they both had better things to focus on in this moment than tearing that asshole limb from limb, metaphorically or otherwise. “If you don’t sit down right the fuck now.” Despite the bluntness of his words, he kept his voice low, not wanting to wake either of the younger boys. “I’m going to take you on this couch so hard it’s gonna wake Ifrit himself.” And yeah. That’d certainly wake the other two as well, but. You know. Just fucking try him.

It was a fucking joy to watch Ignis flush from collar right up to the tips of his ears. Gladio grinned and patted the empty space between him and Noctis. The brunet gaped for a long moment before, snapping his mouth shut, he came over to perch gingerly on the couch.

“Get over here.” Gladio looped his free arm around him and pulled him closer, chuckling when Ignis leaned into the touch rather than resisting. “It’s going to be okay. You know that, right?” Ignis gave a little huff, and Gladio just gave him a little squeeze in reply. It really was. Going to be okay, that is. Not tonight. Maybe not even tomorrow. But sooner or later, this, too, would pass.

* * *

It was a lucky break, as far as Gladio was concerned, when he spotted Prompto shortly after arriving at the Citadel. He hadn’t expected to see him there so soon, frankly, but he was fucking thrilled he was here. Not just because what he hoped it meant, but also because of where he himself was heading.

“Hey, Prom.” Easily catching up with the blond’s shorter stride, Gladio slung an arm around his shoulder. “Wanna gate crash Ignis’ office with me?” He held up the takeout bag hanging from his other hand to demonstrate what specifically for – being a late lunch, of course. Gladio always got too much for the both of them, mostly in hope that Ignis would eat the leftovers later instead of skipping a meal, so an extra mouth wasn’t going to be a problem. “He looked pretty stressed when I saw him earlier, but he probably won’t stab me for interrupting if you’re there.” Gladio knew Ignis wouldn’t _actually_ stab him, but it amused him to joke about it. Especially when he knew full well Ignis was expecting him. After all, they had lunch together more often than not. They knew each others’ schedules, at this point – or at least had full access to checking.

“S-sure!” He’d caught Prompto by surprise, apparently. Probably caught up in his own head. Understandably so. But Gladio was good at negating that. After all, he’d been friends with Ignis for over a decade now. He had plenty of practice.

“Great!” He steered Prompto towards the elevator, chatting about the food he’d gotten – there was this grill a couple blocks away that did these great skewers Ignis pretended to be too fastidious to eat at work. Gladio found it very entertaining to get more than he could eat and see how long it would take Ignis to have one. Plus they had really fucking good potstickers and this great peanut noodle dish that he knew Ignis loved, even if it supposedly had some heat to it. Gladio didn’t really consider it spicy, but then again, his momma made sure he knew what _real_ heat tasted like.

Prompto was being . . . really quiet, for him. It had been a rough couple of days, hadn’t it? Gladio didn’t mind being the one to fill the silence for a minute or two. It was easy enough to do, on the subject of good food and the shared sentiment that Lucians, on a whole, were really just . . . so weak when it came to spice.

Gladio let his arm fall as the elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Prompto naturally moved forward to lead the way. While their polyamorous relationship wasn’t very old, after all, Prompto and Ignis had been dating for some time. He’d probably already been up here more than once, despite his limited clearance. And, of course, Gladio was up here all the time.

Still, the blond hesitated when he actually reached the advisor’s door, hovering awkwardly. “Knock knock!” Gladio announced cheerfully, reaching past him to open the door without . . . actually knocking. Startled, Ignis’ head snapped towards the door way from where his attention had been held behind his desk, hands automatically moving to close the folder he had open before he realized who had arrived. Then green eyes narrowed in a glare just for him.

“Hilarious.” He managed to sound entirely scathing and unamused, the effect only slightly ruined as his gaze flickered toward the food Gladio had brought with him. Spotting Prompto trailing behind only moments later, his expression softened into a smile. “Hello, Darling.”

“Hey, Iggy.” His voice was soft. Subdued. Gladio did not like it.

“I’ve come to feed you,” he announced, grinning as he hefted said food onto the advisor’s desk without ceremony. Ignis, because he knew the drill after all, managed to get his papers out of the way in time, though he gave a put-upon sigh as Gladio began unpacking the containers, spreading them across the desk before producing plastic cutlery. Looks like the extras they always put in (it was not too much food for two people, thank you very much) was going to come in handy, for once.

Ignis retrieved a couple bottles from the mini fridge tucked in the corner of his office and offered them to his two visitors. Water. Good. Not everyone could stomach that mediocre sludge he guzzled by the dozen.

“Thank you, Gladio.” Ignis said finally, settling back in his seat. He reached straight for the skewers, then lightly pushed them closer to the blond. “You’ll like these.” It was the healthiest thing there, and probably Ignis’ favourite, though he’d never admit it in his office, given they were a little on the messy side. Still. Fucking adorable.

Prompto picked up one of the indicated skewers, eyeing it for a moment before taking a bite. He gave a little hmmm that sounded like approval, and Ignis turned his attention to his noodles. Gladio grabbed a skewer for himself and popped the container with the potstickers open. Gods he loved those potstickers. He didn’t know what they put in them to make them so damn delicious, and he was just fine with living in ignorance.

“So, I read an interesting report today.” Gladio perked up at the words – Ignis had spoken them a little too casually, after all. And in front of someone who was, technically, still a civilian. He sensed a good story. Why else would he be bringing it up?

“It seems a group of recruits went out for a night on the town.” Oh yeah. This was definitely going to be good. Ignis was doing that little. That tiny smirk he always did when he was amused. Maliciously amused. “And one of them attempted to bequeath a swan to his compatriots.”

Prompto gave a surprised laugh. “What?”

“Was it Saprus?” Gladio knew he probably sounded way too enthused, but. Well. The little shit really could use bumped off his pedestal. If Gladio kicked his ass, he had an unfair advantage, being technically one of the assistant instructors on the current batch of potentials, not to mention having trained for it all his life. And yet, when the little shit beat his fellow trainees into the ground, he was just that awesome. Like he hadn’t gotten training from his family ahead of time, either, if not near to the future shield’s degree. “_Please_ say it was Saprus.”

“Saprus Temalus does enjoy boasting of his bloodline,” Ignis conceded, a good as a confirmation as Gladio was likely to get. “The swan,” he added, clearly for Prompto’s benefit, seeing how Gladio already knew all this shit, “is an element of the crest of House Fleuret, and the Temalus family are _very_ distantly related to that bloodline.” Distantly was right. “It was once considered a great honor to be bequeathed a swan by a scion of House Fleuret.”

Gladio didn’t know the fuck why. Swans were fucking terrifying. He’d thought geese were bad. Swans were like their evil cousin, twirly mustache and all. Swans were geese with _reach_.

Also yeah. Very distant relationship. Even if the bequeathal of swans hadn’t fallen out of favour like a century ago, Saprus Temalus sure as hell wouldn’t have had the authority.

“In any case,” Ignis continued, cool as can be, “it appears young Saprus became quite intoxicated during a night on the town and attempted to bequeath a swan to his fellow recruit.” Ignis smiled then, sharp and vicious. “In practice rather than theory.”

This was the funniest shit Gladio had ever heard

“To hear him tell it.” Ignis paused, twirling his fork in his noodles. He appeared to consider a moment, then he took a bite, falling silent as he chewed and swallowed. “To hear him tell it,” he repeated, starting again, “they were minding their own business, merely observing a mother and her cygnets when she attacked unprovoked.”

Gladio snorted. Yeah, sure. Swans were mean. But in his experience, wildlife rarely just attacked unprovoked. And you just. You just don’t fuck with moms.

“Another witness, however, provided a much more realistic version of the story. One, in fact, that is actually consistent with the details of his hospital visit.”

“Holy shit,” Gladio whispered. It was so bad he’d needed a hospital visit? That was. Still hilarious, but he almost felt bad about it. Almost. But not really. It was hard to feel too bad about instant karma. And. You know. That guy was an _annoying_ little shit.

“That sounds terrifying,” Prompto added softly, and you know what, that was fair. Swans _were_ legitimately terrifying.

“Glaive Amathea, who was off duty at the time, came to his aid, bodily removing the animal from him and –“ Ignis’ composure finally cracked, his expression screwing up slightly as he tried very hard not to laugh. When he spoke again, his voice sounded strained. “She held it while they made their escape, then threw it by the neck . . . and warped to safety.”

Gladio laughed. Damned if that wasn’t an image. He didn’t know Glaive Amathea personally, but damn. Someone ought to buy the woman a drink.

“She’s been recommended for commendation,” Ignis added with a little cough, having managed to get his mirth under control. That’s what commendation looked like, he supposed, during peace times. Saving a dumbass recruit from the consequences of his own drunken actions. Though no doubt a spin had been put on it to make it sound better than that.

“I’m . . . glad everyone survived.” Well, yeah. Death by swan would be a really shitty way to go. And an equally shitty way to be remembered. Still. Even saying that, Prompto looked like he didn’t know whether to be amused or horrified. Either (or both) was a pretty valid choice.

For a few minutes, they fell into a comfortable silence, their focus shifting to the food in front of them that they did, ultimately, have limited time to eat. But soon enough the food was mostly gone, and conversation flowed again.

“Did you come to the citadel together?” Ignis began to tidy, tucking the empty containers into the trash and consolidating the remaining leftovers to fit in his ebony-loaded mini fridge. He produced a packet of wet wipes from a desk drawer, setting it out on his desk so they could help themselves.

“Nah, ran into Prom on the way here,” Gladio commented lightly, swiping a few to wipe the remaining sauce from his fingers. They just never put enough napkins in those bags.

“Oh?” Ignis perked up at the clarification, turning his attention to the blond.

“Yeah, I.” Prompto hesitated, clearly not quite comfortable. But Ignis just waited patiently, and Prompto managed to pull his words together. “I was just gonna go down and . . . finishmyrecruitment.”

The words hung in the air for a long beat, then Ignis merely smiled. “Marvelous.” His voice had gone all soft the way it did sometimes with Prompto, and Gladio still couldn’t believe how sixdamn cute it was.

“Want some company?” The words were out before Gladio fully thought them through, but . . . yeah, that was a good idea. He’d just. Ignore the look – somehow both suspicious and approving – Ignis was giving him now. “For moral support?” And moral support only, of course. Prom was fully capable of taking care of it himself. Didn’t mean he couldn’t be there for him.

“That’d be great.” The relief in his voice was confirmation enough that it had been a good idea. More than. Gladio was happy to tag along. After all, he didn’t exactly have a lot left on his schedule for the day. He was wide open and happy to spend that time with his cute boyfriend.

And then Iggy’s phone buzzed against his desk, and Gladio knew what that meant even without the irritated hum Ignis made at the sound. With his schedule, it was a lingering miracle that he had time for lunch with them at all.

“Apologies.” Genuine, but familiar. It wasn’t like Gladio didn’t know how it was. “I have a meeting with Lord Rochester.”

“Read: Lord Assface.” Which would be the perfect name for Lord Rochester. Gladio hated that guy.

“_Gladio_,” Ignis hissed, but then Prompto gave a sudden, bright laugh, so he knew he was in the clear. “Someday you _will_ say the wrong name to his face, and I _will not_ help you.” That was a lie.

“Sure, Iggy.” But then those gorgeous green eyes narrowed in a glare, and Gladio knew not to push his luck. Tease Iggy too much, and he really would leave him high and dry. “Come on, Prom. Let’s let Ignis have his alone time with Lord Assface.” Ignis just sighed, sounding more exasperated than genuinely irritated.

“See you later, Iggy!”

And then they were ducking from Ignis’ office and heading downstairs. The walk down to the Crownsguard offices seemed to take forever until suddenly they were there. Gladio hung back, letting Prompto take the lead, but sticking close. Moral support. Definitely had to visibly be there. But Prompto was running the show.

Prompto led the way to the recruitment office from memory, his movements growing more hesitant to closer they got. He glanced back at that final door, and Gladio offered a smile that he hoped was reassuring, one hand coming up to rest lightly against the blond’s slender back. Prompto leaned into the touch for a moment, then gave a little huff and pushed forward, pulling the door open and stepping through to see the office in disarray, a single crownsguard patiently sorting his way through it. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the man by appearance alone, but Gladio knew him to be a staple the guard’s intelligence division. The asshole that had arrested Prompto was nowhere in sight, and the presence of this particular guardsman seemed to indicate to Gladio that a full investigation was underway following his removal.

“Ah, yes.” The man straightened, smiling politely as he turned his attention to the new arrivals. “Mr. Argentum. Lord Amicitia.”

Gladio grimaced. He did that on purpose. He definitely did that on purpose. He hated being called by his title, and he was absolutely sure that Dustin Ackers - someone who had known him since he was in diapers - knew it.

“_Sir_,” he acknowledged.

“Right this way, Mr. Argentum.” Dustin moved to a nearby desk, sorting through a few papers for the blond’s unfinished packet. “And we’ll have you sorted in no time.” He flipped through the sheaf of papers, verifying that everything was dotted, crossed, and signed before turning his attention to the one remaining matter to complete his paperwork.

“There’s just your identifying marks, then. Anything besides the tattoo? Scars? Distinctive clusters of freckling?” Anyone who didn’t know the man well wouldn’t recognize the dry tone as his own brand of near-flavourless humor. If Gladio hadn’t been interacting with him his whole damn life, he certainly wouldn’t have.

“If you’ve got The Portraitist on your ass,” he teased softly, giving the blond a little nudge with his elbow, “now’s the time to speak up.”

“_Gladio_!” Prompto hissed, and honestly, he had to fight not to cackle. Did he know he sounded like Ignis when he did that? It was fucking amazing. “N-nothing like that! Sir!”

“Very well, then. Just the one.” Dustin produced a camera, then waited patiently as the blond worked himself up to removing his arm band. Honestly. He looked absolutely terrified. And no wonder, considering. Completely justified. But he couldn’t drag it out forever. Soon enough, it was off, and though the limb trembled slightly, he presented it for inspection, barcode and all.

No-nonsense as ever, Dustin took a few quick snaps, briefly examining the screen of the digital camera to confirm what he had was acceptable, then set the camera down on top of the completed paperwork.

“Monday morning, be down at the training grounds and ready to begin at 9 a.m. sharp. You know where to go?”

Prompto gave a quick nod, the hesitated, brow furrowed. “That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Dustin confirmed with a small smile. “Congratulations, recruit.”

“O-oh.” Prompto was already fastening the clasps on his wristband. “T-thanks.”

“What do you say we get smoothies?” Gladio slung an arm around the blond as they rose. He was so fucking proud. Prompto had been clearly anxious and terrified and he’d fucking come back here right away and committed anyway. He was fucking amazing, and he didn’t even see it at all.

Gods, Gladio was so fucking lucky. Prompto was the best – the _absolute_ best. And he deserved the best. And you know what? It was his turn after all. So the best was exactly what he was going to fucking give him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was literally never going to come up with something better than The Portraitist for a constellation. Please consider reading [The Temptation of Saint Anthony, but with This Guy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11887434/chapters/26847558) for additional context. It's an old fav.


	13. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! 
> 
> Please enjoy this chapter. <3

Anxiety was a weird thing. Prompto had great anxiety about many things, but right now it was specifically focused on starting his training on Monday. He had a great amount of it. More than there was water in Insomnia Bay. The best way to distract himself from _that_ anxiety was to be specifically anxious about something _else_. Luckily for him, or perhaps not so luckily, Prompto had found the perfect thing to angst over almost as soon as Ignis had come home.

Ignis was tired.

Of course, Ignis was always tired. It was just a fact. He worked himself too hard, and had insomnia too often to not be in some sort of state of tired at all times. That was just a fact. This was different, though. Ignis was showing how tired he was. That was unusual for him. Ignis would never say he was tired, but his motions were slower, and his brain didn't seem to be going as quickly. It was only seven o'clock. He was just making dinner. Of course it was too early to try and pull him to bed. Of course he wouldn't accept help, and as well he shouldn't. Prompto would just ruin whatever it was he was making.

The other night, he hadn't even come home. Now he was home on time, but very, very tired, and probably going to go off into his office for at least another hour after dinner. Prompto wasn't mourning the time without him. He knew Ignis was all about his work, and besides, living in the same apartment was new enough that just knowing someone else was only a room away was enough to not feel alone and empty, but . . . it was only November. Prompto knew that work would pick up even further in December with the holiday and end of the year coming.

He wasn't sure he could do anything, but . . . it couldn't hurt to check, could it?

"I'm gonna go wait out on the couch, okay?"

"All right, Darling. You've had a long day." Ignis paused. "Take our pest with you."

Prompto nodded, and that was how he ended up on the couch in the front room with Ms. Marbles kneading a hole into his belly as he dialed Noctis' number and put it to his ear. Noctis would either pick up or not. It really depended on how talky he felt. Fortunately, on the third ring, Noctis picked up. _"I sure hope this isn't really that serious."_

"Does it really have to be the end of the world for me to call?"

_"Texting is better. Facts."_ After a beat or two, Noctis continued. _"Anyway, what's up?"_ Anxiety flared up in him again. Were they still fighting? Sure, Noctis had come when Ignis had called about his . . . inhuman discovery, but that really had been an emergency of sorts. Now that it wasn't, were they still fighting? _"Prom?"_

"Oh. Um. I. Just." He bit his lip.

_"Come on, out with it. Or I really am gonna hang up, and you're going to have to text me."_

Prompto huffed. Noctis would do it, too, little shit. "Is it possible to get Ignis a vacation?" It was not a good sign when Noctis started cackling on the other end. "I'm serious!"

It took a couple more seconds for Noctis to stop laughing._ "Short answer's no,"_ he said between dying chuckles._ "Long answer is yeah, sure, I could get him one, but he wouldn't take it. He took a few days off to move."_

"That's not a vacation. That's a life event."

_"Agreed. Agreed. That's not how he sees it though. He sees it as time wasted. No. Wasted is the wrong word, but you get it."_ Prompto did. _"Why are you asking anyway? You wanna take him somewhere?"_

"No!"

_"Damn, don't have to make it sound like a horrible idea."_

"To take him somewhere, I'd have to have money, Noct."

_"I could always--"_

"No."

On the other end, Noctis huffed, but it was a fake, put upon huff. It actually made Prompto feel a bit better. He wouldn't be making that sound if he were really mad. He wouldn't be making that sound if they were still fighting. _"Then no vacation. He won't go for it."_

"Isn't there anything you can do? Take some stuff off his workload? Anything?"

_"Again, the short answer's no. Way to call me lazy, by the way."_ Noctis carried on before Prompto could defend himself._ "So, yeah, I could take on more work for myself. Sure. I could, but you know what that gives Specs?"_

Prompto had a feeling he wasn't going to like this answer. "What?"

_"More time to take on someone else's work. It'd have absolutely no effect. His whole life is working, Prom. He was born to take care of others and die doing it. Just, you know, let me know if he's actually getting sick-sick, because I can and will force days off on him for that. Until then, he's just gonna be tired and overworked, because that's who he is. I dunno. Try to make him go to bed earlier. I'll try to lessen his work for him, but I can't do much, or he'll notice, and then it'll just get worse for everyone. You get me?"_

"Yeah," Prompto sighed. "Thanks for the honesty."

_"I try. Sometimes."_ Noctis paused. _"You have a good night, okay? I didn't. I didn't like last night."_

Ah. Worry. Okay. Prompto could relate to worry. Time to joke about it. " Don't worry. I'm not due for a proper breakdown about this for three months. Okay?"

_"I really hope that's a joke."_

"Either it is, or someone's going to find me in the Crownsguard locker rooms huddled in a corner."

He heard Noctis lightly sigh, and that meant diffusion had been successful. _"Good night, Prompto."_

"Night, Noct." He hung up the phone, and it wasn't long before Ignis called him out for dinner.

They ate in mostly silence, which was also an indicator of how tired he knew Ignis really had to be. It was normally Ignis who brought up topics of conversation at first. It was usually more Prompto's job to keep the conversation going. Maybe he'd try to get Ignis to start the bedtime process at nine. Maybe he could ask him about one of the ten thousand other things giving him anxiety at that moment. Maybe--

"Is there something wrong with it?"

"Huh?" Prompto looked up from his plate to Ignis' worried face. "Wrong with what?" Ignis lifted his fork and gestured at what Prompto realized a second later was his plate. It was only then that Prompto realized he hadn't really been eating so much as pushing his food around. He instantly took a bite. "No, there's nothing wrong with it. It's great. I'm just . . . thinking about stuff."

"Like what?" Before Prompto could stop him, Ignis was getting up from his chair and had moved to the next chair over. His mostly empty plate of food stayed where it was. "Talk to me, even about just one thing."

One thing. He could pick one thing that wasn't, like, a huge deal, right? It didn't have to be Ignis' tiredness, or how inhuman he was about 99% sure he still was, or Crownsguard training, or-- ah, there was something. He could talk about that. It wouldn't matter. Maybe. "Yesterday, when you talking me down from the ledge, so to speak." He stopped abruptly, his voice sticking in his throat.

"Yes?" Ignis urged.

Prompto took in a deep breath. "You said you loved me."

"Ah. Yes. I did."

Okay. Now this. This was the hard part. "Did you mean it?" He got those words out and then he just started rambling. It was always the worst when he knew he was rambling and just couldn't stop. "I mean, I totally get it if you didn't. You were trying to get me to calm down enough to not run away and it totally worked. I'm still here, and not fleeing the city to never return, which was totally the plan. Definitely. Though I also really don't want you to feel obligated to say you meant it, either. Like, I really don't. Please don't. I--"

"I meant it, Prompto."

Ignis had cut him off mid-breath, and he felt it trickle past a throat that neither wanted to open or close. Long seconds passed as he got that breath out. Ignis kept talking. "It's true that I said it in a rush of panic, but the words were absolutely true." A hand took his, and when Prompto turned his head to look, he thought he saw something wide and afraid on Ignis' own face. It matched what was in his own heart. "You are certainly not obligated to say it in return, but I do love you. Very much."

"I love you too." He whispered the words. It was all his throat would allow.

"You do?" How? How could someone like Ignis Scientia sound so insecure about it? Who would not love him if given half a chance?

"I do. Have for a while. I just. I didn't want to scare you off."

"Nonsense, you only make me want to hold on tighter." As though he wanted to physically reinforce the words, the hand holding his tightened its grip.

The next day was his last day at the restaurant. It was fine, for all its business. He was handed a check for his last week of work, and Ma told him again that he was welcome to come back at any time, to work or just to eat. So few people liked food as spicy as they liked to make it, after all. It wasn't until he was walking back out the doors that he checked his phone and found that he had a text from Gladio. It only ominously told him that for their date tomorrow he needed to wear his nicest thing.

Whelp. He had been going to go back to the apartment he shared with Ignis, but his legs promptly turned him back toward his parent's place instead. No nap for him today. Only a point to be made. He ignored the jittery feelings that being inside his parent's home again so soon after having a breakdown inside of it gave him. He marched right up to his room, pulled his old school uniform out of its furthest corner, and took a picture of it.

He dropped the picture into his conversation with Gladio followed by the words: 'Is this really what you want me to wear on a date?'

He was so sure that the answer to that was no, unless Gladio had some sort of kink that Prompto wasn't sure he wanted to think about, that he put the uniform back up in his closet and began the walk back to his original destination.

It hadn't even been ten minutes when his phone pinged - not with Gladio's ping, but Ignis'. Prompto wasn't sure he liked where this was going, but he opened up his phone anyway.

Iggy, 2:12 p.m. : When we return this evening, please go down and talk to Noctis. He'll assist you.

Why no. That wasn't terrifying at all. On multiple levels. Like, how was Noct going to help him? And how much money was that going to involve? And why was it Noctis helping him when Ignis wasn't really one to hand over responsibility like that, _as he and Noctis had just discussed the night before?_ He had no choice but to go home and stew over it in mental chaos until he heard the front door click open.

Prompto followed Ms. Marbles' tiny footsteps to the entryway where Ignis, still looking entirely too tired to be normal or healthy, was taking off his shoes. "Head on down now. Noct says he already has one in mind."

"One what?"

Ignis paused, just for the briefest of moments, and Prompto knew that this was something that should have been obvious to him. "A suit, Darling. Noctis is going to lend you one of his suits."

"Oh." Well, that might not be too bad, but- "Is that okay?"

"You're both of a similar size. It won't be a perfect fit, but it should be fine for the purposes of whatever it is that Gladio has planned."

"But is that okay?"

"It's fine, so long as he doesn't give you one that has the royal insignia embroidered on." With his shoes off, Ignis reached down and scooped up the kitten. Prompto's nerves smoothed over a little. There was nothing that wasn't absolutely adorable about Ignis cuddling Ms. Marbles. "I'll be down in about half an hour to look it over, but I'm sure whatever he picks will be fine." They met briefly in the middle to kiss before Ignis made his way to his bedroom and Prompto made his way down to Noctis' apartment.

Prompto swore that his knuckles had barely touched the door before it swung open and Noctis pulled him inside. "Okay! So!" Noctis said as he dragged him along to his bedroom where he threw his closet wide open. This closet was even bigger than his own new closet in Ignis' apartment. It was also way more stuffed with stuff. There was one side of the closet that was packed with normal clothes. Things Prompto was more used to seeing Noctis wearing. Things that said Noct and not prince. The other side was all suits in various shades of black and gray. They were divided right down the middle. "Right side is suits it'd be okay for you to take. Left side--"

"Has the royal insignia embroidered on it?"

"Yeah, basically. Or some other motif that would be inappropriate for you to wear on a night out." Noctis shrugged, clearly not interested in going too deep into what made a suit acceptable or not. Prompto was fine with that, so long as he didn't end up in the tabloids for wearing some cross country offending thing.

"So. Let's pretend I know absolutely nothing about suits."

"Sure. Pretend. Okay." Noctis rolled his eyes, but he stepped forward and pulled out a suit that was more on the gray side of what his closet had to offer. "I don't think you need anything too dark. Yeah? And this one has a vest. Specs will probably like that." The suit was lazily handed off to him, and he was all but shoved toward the bathroom. "Go try it on. Make sure it's not too tight."

"How will I know if it's too tight?"

"It's not like jeans. Trust me. You'll _know_." With that the door was snapped shut behind him, and Prompto found himself on his own. The suit itself wasn't that hard to figure out, it was more that it had a thousand buttons and bits. The biggest problem was perhaps that he was trying to be very gentle with it. He was clearly touching a very expensive suit that had probably been tailored to Noctis' exact size. He had no idea what he was doing or how un-gentle he could be. His normal clothes could be tossed this way and that without a care, but these were different.

He fumbled with buttons and zippers and smoothed out cloth under his fingers. Eventually he thought he had everything in its proper spot, but when he looked in the bathroom mirror, he frowned. He . . . did not look good like this. With his hair swept up as messily as it was and the freckles on his cheeks making him literally look dirty, he just didn't look right. He looked like a child playing dress-up, probably after making mud pies in the summer sun.

"Are you done yet?" Noctis said on the other side of the door. "I just heard the front door open, so you gotta be close."

"Yeah!" He said quickly. "Just. Give me a second." He glanced in the mirror one last time, his face twisted into a grimace, before he tugged the smile back on and opened the door. He saw Noctis' eyes give the whole thing a once over, and then his lips smiled, just a little.

"Looks good."

"You can be honest, dude."

"No, really. Looks good. Not perfect, but as good as you're gonna get the day before the event. You even did the tie right."

"Just because I never did it right in school doesn't mean I don't know how." Because. Really. If there was anything about this that was too tight it was the tie at his neck. It was practically a noose. How did people do this every day?

Noctis was snickering at him for that when Ignis finally came around the corner. "How is the search going?"

"Done," Noctis reported. "Just waiting for you. Come on, Prom. Show him."

Prompto stepped out of the doorway fully, and though he turned to face Ignis, he couldn't bring himself to look up at Ignis' face. He looked up toward the ceiling instead, and lifted his arms so that Ignis could see how the suit jacket hung on him. He didn't hear Ignis say anything, but after a moment he heard Noctis suck his teeth and gag. "Gross! Nope. No. Absolutely not. Congrats, Prom. That suit is yours now."

Prompto's head snapped down to look at Noctis. "What?!"

"Yeah. All yours. I can never wear it again." Noctis started walking very quickly toward the living room. "Get changed back. I'm gonna set up our game." He paused to look back for the barest of seconds. "No sex in my apartment!"

Prompto felt himself go red. There was no in between there. Just he'd been fine before, and now he was flushed from head to toe. "What the hell, Noct--!" He'd been about to go on further, but Ignis moved into his space with too much speed and authority, and Prompto found his face being tilted up for a kiss that, yeah, okay, definitely screamed _I want you now_ more than anything else.

"I'm gonna guess you like it," he breathed when Ignis finally bothered to part their faces just enough for them to breathe. It was a good thing, too, because Prompto's lungs had started to complain about too much kissing and a lack of air.

"You have no idea how delectable you look, do you?" Ignis pulled back a little more, and Prompto could see his eyes. His pupils were so wide that Prompto could only see the barest ring of beautiful green around their edges. "No," he answered himself softly. "That's all right. Later I will show you." Fingers tugged Prompto's tie loose, and Ignis closed the gap between them again, this time to press his lips against Prompto's neck. Even before he felt Ignis' tongue press against it, even before he felt him suck a temporary red mark, Prompto arched his neck. The other bits were just bonuses: a sigh of satisfaction, an ache of want.

"Bit."

Fingers tugged at one button and then two.

"By bit."

Ignis moved again and nipped at his collarbone.

"By bit."

He moved back to Prompto's lips, and Prompto leaned into it happily. Time stood still until his lungs began to cry out again, and then Ignis pulled away completely. "Something to look forward to." Ignis' eyes roved his form once, twice, three times, and Prompto wasn't sure he'd ever felt quite so _wanted_. Though he still could not see anything other than a dirty seeming child playing dress up, he knew Ignis somehow saw something else. Even Noctis had said it looked nice, though that could still be something more like friends telling you lies to make you feel better. For now, he'd choose to believe it.

When he emerged from the bathroom again in his normal clothes, Ignis was still there, waiting. He leaned down for a quick, chaste kiss, and Prompto was smiling brightly when he pulled back. "I'll take the suit up to our apartment, lest we forget it here later, and then I'll start dinner."

"Okay. What are you making tonight?"

"The rice bowl that Noctis so likes."

"He'll like that." And, of course, Prompto would too. Ignis had yet to make anything Prompto wouldn't call delicious. "Hurry back."

"Of course." Ignis went to get the suit and probably, if they were being honest, refold it before taking it upstairs. Prompto went and flopped himself down on Noctis' couch to start their Friday night activities.

"I," Noctis began in the most serious of tones, "am going to get a personalized poster, laminate it, and hang it on the wall."

"Yeah?" Noctis nodded. "What's going to be on this poster?"

"House rules. Three of them."

"Let me guess, 'No sex in the apartment' is rule number one."

"Yes."

"Rule two?"

"No making out. Though congrats on being quiet about it."

Prompto snorted. He was pretty sure Noctis hadn't watched them. He was pretty sure Noctis was just guessing based on how long it had taken. "Rule three?"

"Most important rule: No eyefuck chicken." Prompto burst out laughing. "I mean it, Prom! My eyes will never recover from that!"

"I'm not sure you can stop people from playing eyefuck chicken."

"Well, I can try!" His controller was thrust against his chest, and they began their gaming with Prompto still laughing.

Ignis was almost done with dinner when Gladio arrived, a bag of something in his hands. He said his hellos to Noctis and Prompto before he pulled a box of really high end (or at least as high end as such things got) snack cakes and handed them to Noctis. "Not until tomorrow. Go put them away now." Surprisingly obedient, probably because he didn't want Ignis to take them away from him, Noctis took the box and ran off into his bedroom to hide them . . . wherever it was that he hid things. Prompto had never bothered to find out. If Noctis was hiding something from Prompto, he probably didn't want to know what it was.

"I have something for you too, baby." Gladio shook the bag a little bit. "But let's go talk to Iggy."

"Sure." He set his controller down on the table and followed Gladio into the kitchen area. Once there, Ignis paused in his cooking long enough to get a kiss on his cheek from Gladio.

"I know you gave him something."

"Nothing terrible. For tomorrow when you won't be here." Ignis made some small sound of disbelief but otherwise didn't say anything more about the thing Gladio had given Noctis. "I got you something, too. And Prom."

"Did you now?"

"Yeah," Gladio dug back into the grocery bag o' wonder and pulled out a single can of Ebony. "New flavor for the holidays. At least I think it is."

Ignis didn't look up from his cooking. Instead he held out his hand for the can, which Gladio dutifully handed him. "Gingerbread," Ignis read aloud when he looked at it. "It's most likely abhorrent. Thank you."

Gladio snorted. "You're welcome." Amber eyes turned to him now. "And for you," Gladio pulled out a package that Prompto recognized immediately. "Hot chips."

"Nice!" Prompto said as he took them. "Thanks, big guy!"

"Not until after supper."

"Duh." If he ate these now, he wouldn't even be able to _taste_ dinner.

"By the way, we did get the attire sorted out."

"Did you?"

"Yes, Noct's given him a suit."

"Given? Not lent?"

"He said that he can no longer wear it."

Prompto chuckled at the look of utter confusion that took over Gladio's face. "Why?"

"I assume it has to do with the look I gave Prompto when I saw him in it."

"That great, huh?"

"He said his eyes will never recover," Prompto put in helpfully.

"If it weren't Friday," Ignis added, "Prompto and I would not be down here. We'd be upstairs, with me showing him exactly what I thought of him in that suit."

The grin that Gladio gave him was nothing less than the cat that ate the canary. "I cannot wait to see."

With that, Prompto excused himself to go back out into the living room where Noctis took one look at his face and said, "I don't want to know."

"I wasn't gonna tell you," Prompto returned as he picked up his controller.

It wasn't until the next day that Prompto really started to worry again, his insides jittering with nervousness as Ignis tried to get just one bit of hair on the side of his head to lay flat. "Are you sure you can't tell me?"

"I cannot tell you because I do not know, Darling." When he pulled his hands away again, the hair _mostly_ lay flat, and Ignis apparently decided that was a battle won, if perhaps not the war. "It's clearly something high enough scale to require formal attire, but Gladio wouldn't tell me more than that, either." Hands reached for Prompto's tie, not undoing it, but straightening it a bit. Prompto pouted at him, but when that didn't get him an answer, Prompto decided that either Ignis was telling the truth, or nothing would get it out of him.

He suffered in silence for about five more minutes before there was a knock at the door, and Prompto jumped up to go answer it, Ignis trailing less energetically behind him.

As expected, it was Gladio at the door, his arms seeming to be full of "flowers?"

"Yeah." Prompto stepped back to let Gladio into the entryway, and he watched as one of the large bouquets was handed off to Ignis. Prompto couldn't properly see it. Mostly he got an impression of what he thought were bright daisies and other yellows and oranges. Mostly he saw Ignis' face soften a bit as he stroked a particularly large petal.

"Thank you, Gladio."

Prompto was forced to look away as the second bundle was handed over to him. If both bouquets seemed to fill Gladio's arms, just the one seemed to overwhelm his own. His was roses, plain and simple, but in every color under the sun. Prompto hadn't even been aware that roses came in so many colors. "They're beautiful."

"Just like the person holding them." Boy was that a super cheesy cliche line, and boy did it still make Prompto's cheek glow.

"I'll put these away until we get back," Ignis said, reaching out to gently lift the bouquet of roses from Prompto's hands. "And then I'll put them in vases to last."

"Iggy wasn't kidding," Gladio said softly as Ignis made his way back to the kitchen. "You look incredible."

Prompto definitely still felt like a child playing dress up, but he managed to stammer out a thank you before Ignis returned, and they all made their way down to Ignis' car together. Prompto thought his prayers would be answered then, but no, Gladio just put an address into the GPS, and his suffering continued.

The GPS led them down twisty-turny streets but never left the high end of town, so Prompto supposed he shouldn't have really been surprised when Ignis ended up parking in front of what was easily the fanciest looking restaurant he'd ever seen. "It looks like someone pulled some strings," Ignis commented lightly as he turned his phone off. For Prompto, that was not a good sign.

"It didn't take much, promise. No favors."

The noise that Ignis made in return was neutral in sound, but when they got out of the car and got inside the restaurant, the sound Prompto wanted to make was one of terror and panic. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful with soft lighting, intimate table settings, candles, and a wait staff that actually wore bowties. It was absolutely stunning. It was also absolutely beyond anything he had any knowledge about. Looking at the other people sitting at the other tables, Prompto knew that a non-tailored suit was the absolute least of what he should be wearing at a place like this.

When they reached their table, Ignis pulled out Prompto's chair for him, then lightly swatted at Gladio's hand when Gladio tried to do the same for him. The bit made him smile, almost laugh. It was to be the brightest point of his visit to The Mesmenir's Horn.

Menus weren't handed out. They were at every place setting, and that was where the trouble started. The menu itself was in an extremely loopy font that he could barely read both because it was so small on the sheet and the restaurant itself so dimly lit. Eventually he decided he was just going to order the first thing he could pronounce, which was about three items down on a ten item sheet that seemed to include dessert.

Their waiter, after somehow balancing however many of his other tables, returned to their table in about three minutes to take their order, and even though he'd made sure to pick something he'd been able to pronounce in his head, he stumbled and struggled to get it out of his mouth. He could see the waiter judging him. He was getting good at picking up the subtle expressions of people in the higher rings of the city. Definitely being judged.

Both Ignis and Gladio got through their orders perfectly, of course, and the waiter returned a minute after that to shove a bottle of some sort of wine that was probably supposed to pair perfectly with all their meals into a pristine bucket of ice that sat at one corner of their table.

"Your first course will be out shortly."

After that was the first time Prompto even had the space in his tiny tiny brain to notice the settings. They were full place settings complete with the ten different forks, spoons, and knives, the plate that Prompto knew wasn't actually a plate but like a plate coaster, two other plates, and a bowl. Prompto's heart dropped through his stomach, through his intestines, and, as far as he was concerned, through the chair and careening toward the center of Eos. He promptly sat on his hands so that he couldn't do any damage.

Ignis and Gladio engaged in idle talk that Prompto wasn't even able to process. Maybe it was small talk. Maybe it was something deeper that he really should have chimed in on. He had no idea. He wasn't focusing on that. He was focusing on not moving. Not messing anything up. He was focusing on trying to mentally glean whether he would use this spoon or that fork first and how humiliating it would be for not only him, but both of his boyfriends, if he fucked it up. On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be?

"Prompto?"

"Huh?" He snapped his head up to meet Gladio's gaze. Was this the first time Gladio had called for him? The third? "What's up?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He, as he often did, said it far too quickly for it to be a thing accepted easily. "I'm fine."

"Then why are you looking at the water glass like it just murdered your family?"

Beside him, Ignis sighed. "Because he's likely trying to figure out where it fits into the equation."

"What do you mean, Iggy?"

"I mean he doesn't know what any of this is." Ignis gestured at the place settings before them, and Prompto felt his face heat up with humiliation. He looked away. When he did he met the faraway look of a beautiful woman in a gown. She looked away as soon as she realized he'd seen her. Oh. That. Did not help. At all. He looked at the flooring. Light stained wood. "You forget that he grew up in another world than us, Gladio. He has no idea what any of these forks or spoons mean. He's spent the entire time we've been here trying to figure it out."

"Is . . . is that true?"

"I'm sorry!" Prompto said quickly, sinking as far into his chair as its rigid back would allow him to. He just wanted to disappear. Why couldn't he be someone else? Someone who knew things? Someone who wouldn't embarrass his partners? "I can just keep my hands to myself. That way I won't touch the wrong thing, and you guys can still have a nice meal and--"

"We're going."

"What?!" he panic whispered, opening his mouth to argue that they'd already ordered, that Gladio had clearly gone to some lengths to get a slot here. Gladio was already getting up, and next to him, so was Ignis. "Come on," Gladio said once he was up and around the table. A large hand gently pressed at his shoulder. "Let's go."

"I'm sorry," Prompto mumbled again, resigned to his fate of having ruined a second date in a row. He pushed himself up from the table and trailed behind Gladio as Ignis politely explained to the waiter that they would not be staying for dinner.

"_I'm_ sorry," Gladio said once they were outside the restaurant's doors.

"Why?" Prompto mumbled. "Not your fault I'm a dumbass."

The back of Gladio's hand hit his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but Prompto flinched a little bit anyway. "You're not a dumbass! Iggy's right. You didn't grow up in our world. You didn't grow up going to dinners. You grew up alone, your parents constantly away. Of course you don't know the difference between a salad fork and a fish fork." Gladio paused to sigh. "I'm the dumbass. I should have asked. I just." He stopped.

"You just what, Gladio?" Ignis put in as he came through the doors. "Come now, commit to your words."

Gladio rolled his eyes. "I wanted to give Prompto the best. After the week he's had."

Prompto wasn't really sure how to feel about that statement, but he saw Ignis nod his head a little. It was a little comforting that at least Ignis knew how to feel. Of course, Ignis always knew. It was Ignis. He was always right. "A noble cause. You simply took it in the wrong direction."

Gladio snorted. "Clearly."

Ignis reached up and patted at Gladio's cheek. Prompto wasn't sure if the motion was meant to be more comforting or condescending. "Come now, the evening isn't over yet. We'll fix this yet."

"You think so, do you?"

Ignis hummed out a sound that was both agreement and affection. "Into the car with you two."

Prompto's normal spot was shotgun whenever Noctis wasn't in the car, but this time he crawled in after Gladio and before he even had his seatbelt on. The larger of his two boyfriends wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close, and he felt lips press against the top of his head. "I'm sorry," Gladio whispered to him again before releasing him.

Prompto was still sure that this was his fault. He was the one who should be sorry. He _was_ sorry. He didn't instigate an argument by saying it.

The car was quiet as Ignis drove, but the farther they went the more questions Prompto had about where they were going. The district they were in now wasn't hoity toity, but it wasn't low class either. It was a middle class shopping district. The streets were lined with stores he'd never been in, because they were too expensive, and yet they were also lined with stores that Prompto didn't think either Gladio or Ignis would have ever been in for the opposite reason. Ignis took them past this and down a little side road into a parking lot that resided next to a park that Prompto had honestly forgotten was even here.

They got out of the car to the November chill and followed Ignis right to the other side of the lot where Prompto finally saw the method to Ignis' madness. "There are food trucks here."

"There are also a couple of stalls further into the park, but we'll worry about those in a bit. Darling, please procure us a table. Gladio, with me, if you would." Gladio mumbled something about using his work voice in a private setting but didn't argue at all as they separated. For a moment Prompto felt like he was the one being left behind, but it quickly became clear that he'd been given a very important task. Even in the chill, people seemed to gather here for the food trucks and stalls, and finding an empty table along the edges of the park proved difficult. He found one, though, cold to the touch as he sat down even though he'd only just seen the couple sitting at it get up. It was a bit of a walk, so he hoped Ignis and Gladio would find him.

They did, or perhaps he spotted them first as they searched as he half stood and waved his arm frantically. Gladio lifted one arm in return, and Prompto slunk back down against the wood, satisfied. When they reached the table, two plates of skewers were sat down in its center. They were different than the ones he'd had in Ignis' office just the other day. One plate was purely meat, the other purely vegetable. They smelled amazing in the November air.

With a wave of his hand, Prompto was given first pick, and he took a meat one first, knowing he'd dive back in for a vegetable one as soon as the last bit of meat hit his mouth. Ignis reached for a vegetable one as Prompto took his first bite.

It was amazing.

It was spicy but not spicy enough to be too much for Ignis to handle. The meat was tender and not cooked to death like some meat on a stick could be. "This is so good," he commented between his second and third bite. Ignis hummed his agreement, and Gladio nodded his head. By the time he started on a vegetable skewer, it didn't feel weird at all they were sitting at a picnic table in November, wearing suits and eating skewers from a food truck.

When the food was gone, Ignis swept all of their trash away before either of them could do it for him, and when he returned, he told them to follow him. So they did. When they'd gotten past the line of picnic tables, he felt a hand brush against his, and Prompto easily entwined his fingers with Gladio's. Gladio squeezed his hand, and when he looked up at his face, Gladio was smiling down at him. He smiled back.

After about five minutes, it became clear that this wasn't an idle walk. Ignis was searching for something. It was in the way his back was kept perfectly straight. It was in the way he walked just a little too fast to be leisurely. "What are you looking for, Iggy?"

"I'll let you know when I find it." Even from behind him, Prompto could hear a huff. "If I find it."

It was another five minutes before Ignis saw something ahead of them and turned around to hook one arm around Gladio's elbow and practically drag them along like they'd been lagging behind. Prompto saw it for what it was: excitement. Ignis was excited.

They ended up standing in front of a little food stall. Prompto was more familiar with these in the sense of sandwiches sold out of dinged, old carts in the deep city, but this one was nicer, clearly newer. It had a brightly colored umbrella to protect it from rain and maybe snow. The woman standing behind it was similarly brightly dressed with a grin to match, despite the chill that she'd probably been standing in all day. "You wouldn't happen to already be closed, would you?"

"And miss the lovely after dinner rush? Not a chance!" She said this, even though they were the only ones standing anywhere nearby. When Prompto figured out what she served, it became obvious why they were the only ones here.

"Ice cream, Iggy? Really?"

"Trust me, Prompto."

Of course he trusted Ignis, but it was still a weird feeling to tell the lady all the toppings and things he liked in his ice cream. Not a menu, just a list. It was only when she started throwing all of that together and starting her show that Prompto fully realized what was going on. "Omigods. I've only ever seen this sort of thing in Kwehter videos!"

"What is it?" Gladio asked, and delight filled Prompto from nose to toes.

He pulled Gladio close to his side, "Just watch. It's so cool."

He could feel Gladio focusing on it, but it was clear to him that Gladio didn't get it until she started rolling her concoction. When his cup was handed over to him it was filled with rolled ice cream so expertly done it almost looked like roses, if it didn't also have little cookie sticks and a spoon sticking out of it.

"Okay," Gladio admitted. "Yeah, that was cool."

"Who's next?" Ignis, being Ignis, pushed Gladio to go first, and then he got his own last. By the time Ignis was handing over the yen, Prompto's dish hadn't even started to melt in the November air.

Together they walked back toward the edge of the park, chatting lightly about nonsense that ended up being about the birds that would stay in Insomnia over the winter and the ones that migrated to warmer climates. By the time they'd reached the car, all of their cups were empty. "Well?" Ignis asked as he unlocked the doors with a press of a button. "What did we think? Do we want to come back?"

"Yeah! I'd love to come back! It was so cool and so good! Better than any of those videos ever conveyed."

"What about you, Gladio?"

Prompto was keenly aware of the fact that Gladio made sure he had eye contact with him before he answered. "I wouldn't mind coming back at all. It was real nice."

The ride back home was quiet in a satisfied-tired sort of way. He'd ridden in the back with Gladio again, and by the time Ignis was pulling into their spot, Prompto's head had found a home on Gladio's shoulder and he was already half asleep. Being upset was fucking exhausting. It was Ignis who initiated their now standard "Are you staying the night?" talk with Gladio, which resulted in the same "If that's allowed." response. It was. Ignis would not offer if he didn't feel up to it, and Prompto was never going to say no to someone else sharing the bed with them. Unless it was someone he didn't like.

Gladio wasn't someone he didn't like. Not by a long shot.

Bed wasn't immediate, though. Ignis let them into the apartment, and there was a trail of shoes, jackets taken off, ties discarded, and buttons undone before the three of them ended back up on the couch in a moment reminiscent of their last date. The only thing missing was cocoa and a movie playing while Ignis fell asleep.

In the end, it was actually Prompto who fell asleep on the couch to the feel of Gladio's arms around him and Ignis' fingers gently gliding through his hair.

In the morning, he'd wake in very much the same position, feeling very full and yet empty at the same time.


	14. Ignis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! <3
> 
> Please enjoy this latest installment. o u o

It was merely the first day of many, but Ignis wanted to make it special somehow. To do something special. But he knew he couldn’t get away with making too big of a deal out of his boyfriend’s first day as a trainee without . . . consequences. Mostly being that he knew the man himself would likely not appreciate it. But he could settle for at least being attentive. He could assure his darling had a suitable meal and provide an atmosphere suitable for relaxing after what was sure to be a tiring day.

He was. So proud. After everything that had happened, after the unfortunate manner of recent revelations, Prompto had gone right back to it and completed the recruitment process anyway. Whatever further difficulties arose, Ignis was confident that the blond could handle them. And he would be right here to offer support along the way.

Of course, whatever he planned would have to work around his own duties, as Ignis could not take a day off on short notice simply because he wished to pamper his partner. He could perhaps leave the Citadel earlier than the norm, if he maneuvered carefully and took some work home with him, assuming no last minute meetings or other incidents he had no control of arose late in the day. It was the best he could manage, and so it would have to do.

The apartment was silent when he arrived home, enough so that his first instinct was to double check the time on his wristwatch before even slipping off his shoes. Diverting only long enough to put the groceries away, he conducted a quick search to locate his boyfriend, who he believed surely would be home by now. And his boots were by the door. But perhaps he’d gone back otherwise clad.

He found Prompto face down in their bed, his furry accomplice cuddled up to him and purring happily. Ignis smiled. He looked so worn that he almost didn’t want to disturb him, but he needed to eat. And. There was certainly something else he could do for him. Luckily, he had prepared ahead, and he need only fetch the massage balm. Gladio had assisted him in choosing something suitable, no doubt aware that he would hem and haw over his options if he didn’t step in with his opinion.

Ignis perched on the edge of the bed, tucking one hand under the blond’s shirt to slide his hand up his back, thumb pressing lightly up his spine. Gods, his skin was soft. But there was definitely benefit to be had here. “Shirt off.” He pulled his hand away, reaching for where he’d left the massage balm on the nightstand, close at hand for when the opportunity arose. As the blond wiggled out of his shirt, he rubbed a thick coat of balm onto his hands, not quite managing not to smirk when the blond practically recoiled at the touch of his hand against bare skin again. It was just the temperature, he knew. Mercilessly, he gave his boyfriend a light shove back onto to bed. It would be worth it in a minute or two here.

“Apologies.” He leaned forward to plant a light kiss against Prompto’s back just above where his hands lay. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”

“It better!” Ignis chuckled at the muffled exclamation, concentrating on the movement of his hands against all that gorgeous skin, slowly rubbing the balm in as his hands moved in long, rhythmic strokes across freckled skin. Gladio had always assured him that his attempts at massage had been a great help even before he’d taken classes for it. He only hoped his skill hadn’t atrophied too much to benefit Prompto as well.

“Iggyyyyy.” He smiled at the whine, not allowing how bloody adorable it was to distract him. The blond was tenser than he’d expected, but it wasn’t exactly a hardship to help him with that. Or, at least, he hoped it was helping. The longer he worked at it, the more confident he was about it. It was different than working on Gladio had been, and not only because the difference in his relationship with Prompto was rather different than it had been with Gladio at the time . . . but the motions, regardless, were familiar.

“Yes, Darling?”

“You don’t gotta give me a freaking massage.”

Ignis’ hands jerked away from the blond’s back, immediately disengaging at the words. Did it hurt? Perhaps it had been too long since he’d done this, and all he’d done was make things worse. That was the opposite of what he wanted. Or perhaps Prompto was simply feeling tender and did not wish to be touched. “Is it not helping?”

“No, that’s not –“ Relief. “You just worked all day, came home to your boyfriend - who did not work all day by the way - and you're going to give him the massage?” Of course, he should have realized that wasn’t Prompto’s objection, though he couldn’t possibly agree hadn’t worked at all that day. Training absolutely was work and certainly as strenuous, if not more so, than spending half the day enduring old men bickering over a topic that, quite honestly, could have been summarized in a five-minute conversation. Or an email. It was disturbing how often he found himself in a meeting thinking the subject of which definitely could have just been an email. But then, all too often, allowing a bunch of stuffy old men to have their say was simply part of the process. “I should be giving you a massage! You should be relaxing!"

This dear, sweet, precious, beautiful man. He had it all wrong, but in the most lovely way. “For one thing, Mr. Argentum.” He scarcely hesitated to touch him again, more than happy for the sensation of skin against skin, of taut muscle relaxing beneath his touch. “Getting to put my hands on you is not _work_.” Not in the slightest or under any conceivable circumstances. _Honestly._ “And you had a very hard day, I don’t doubt it.” Even if Prompto himself clearly rather did. “Perhaps shorter than mine but much more strenuous. I am more than happy to do this for you, Prompto.” And that was the sure and honest truth.

“You. Really, don’t gotta.” Of course, he didn’t. He wanted to, and that was the difference. He loved the feel of his boyfriend’s pliant beneath his hands, and every every stuttered breath as his hand kneaded and pressed. Adored the way he was slowly melting into the mattress as the massage continued. Cherished it when the blonde relaxed completely, his guard completely down.

Treasured that he was comfortable enough to be in that state, here, alone with him.

“I want to, Darling.” Prompto wouldn’t believe him if he came out and said all that, would he? Could he even get it out, if he tried hard enough? Perhaps not, but he could still show him. He could pack every bit of feeling he had into his actions and hope that somehow would be enough. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against the blond’s freckled shoulder before speaking again. “Let me take care of you.”

“Fine.” Ignis breathed a small sigh of relief at the reply. His boyfriend wasn’t always so accepting, after all, when it came to letting himself be spoiled. Or even taken care of. They had all, he rather thought, learned that early on.

He focused his full attention on the blond from there, on kneading and massaging first his back then shoulders, arms, calves . . . even his feet, not satisfied until Prompto resembled an over satiated cat melting into the covers. Only then did he stop.

“How do you feel now?”

“Boneless.” Ignis chuckled. He sounded as melted as he looked, which, honestly, quite pleased him. It was satisfying to have successfully helped.

“Not too boneless to give me a reward, I hope?” he teased.

“Depends on the reward.” Ignis paused just long enough to see him actually shift to look, then simply smiled and tapped his own lips with his forefinger. Prompto frowned. “That’s not a reward for you. That’s a reward for me.”

To the contrary, as far as Ignis was concerned, that was very much a reward for himself. “Mutual benefit?” he suggested rather than say as much. After all, one should hope they both enjoyed such a kiss.

The blond gave an adorable little snort. “Sure. We can call it that.” And then Ignis swooped in for his reward, a brief pressing of lips before the blond sunk back against the mattress. Ignis left him to rest; he may have liked to stay longer, but there were other practicalities to consider. Dinner, for one, and a spot of work yet before he could call it quits for the night. Cuddles, well. That would have to wait for later, unfortunately.

Ignis left the blond to rest, turning his attention to the next task at hand: dinner. But by the time he had the water on and guanciale cut and beginning to fry, Prompto had joined him, watching silently as he combined and stirred the remaining ingredients in a wooden bowl.

“It’s not traditional, but would it bother you greatly if I added peas to this?”

For a moment, the blond stared blankly. “Okay, first thing – I’m not Noct.” Ignis gave a tiny snort of laughter. Fair enough. He’d never known someone so adverse to vegetables as the prince, and Prompto, having his own preferences, had certainly never shown such levels of aversion. “Second thing, I-D-K what you’re making or what’s traditional for it.”

“I’m making carbonara.” Ignis managed not to smile at first, turning his attention fully to the guanciale, which was nearly ready to be removed from the heat. The water wasn’t quite boiling, yet, either. Perhaps he should have waited a little longer once he’d put it on.

. . . but as the silence lingered, the corners of his lips curved upwards, despite himself, and he could feel the ache in his cheeks when he outright grinned as his smart, adorable boyfriend got it.

“It’s _carb_onara because Gladio told you to make sure I was _carb_ loading, isn’t it?” His tone was borderline accusatory, and frankly, Ignis was living for it.

“It took Gladio fifteen minutes to text me back about that one.” Which, honestly, was unbelievable, considering he had the added benefit of seeing it in written form. “I knew you were my smart boyfriend."

The blond gave an adorable little snort (of disbelief, probably), then offered to help. Ignis enjoyed cooking with his boyfriend, even if Prompto himself would likely assert that he mostly got in the way. That wasn’t true at all. Sometimes it was perfectly charming to have an extra set of hands in the kitchen.

“If you’re really all right with peas, I have a bag of them in the fridge.” They would be a lovely counterbalance to the richness of the sauce, and Prompto’s assistance would certainly aid his already not-quite-right timing. “Shelling them would be a great help to me.”

“You got it, Iggy,” Prompto agreed easily and with every bit of his usual trademark cheer.

They fell into a comfortable silence as they worked, and soon Ignis as plating the food, and they were settling in to eat. They ate quickly, both hungry after a full day, and Ignis rather thought the recipe a success. While carb-heavy as requested, the peas had cut the heaviness nicely, and the balance of the creaminess of the sauce with the saltiness of the meat and the crispness of the veg was rather satisfying. Ignis swept away their dishes once they were both finished, taking a few minutes to rinse them properly and scrape the cooking utensils he’d left soaking before loading the dishwasher.

Prompto remained at the table where he’d left him, expression drawn and tired and his heart absolutely melted at the sight. “Darling,” he knelt to eye level, hands coming up to cradle his boyfriend’s face, thumbs stroking soft, charmingly freckled cheeks. “You look so tired. Why don’t you go to bed early?”

The blond’s brow furrowed, perfect pink lips twisting into a frown. Beyond the gentle stroke of his thumbs, he didn’t move, waiting. “I’ll go to bed early,” Prompto finally offered, “if you come to bed early with me.” Ignis paused. Yes. He should have expected that. “That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

Ignis sighed. He was tired. There was no denying that. It had been a long week, despite nothing particularly extraordinary happening, and they weren’t even through it yet. “You drive a hard bargain.” An early night wouldn’t hurt, certainly, but the more of those he took, the more he was going to be hard pressed not to carry work into the weekend. But then, he was also _so_ tired and smart enough besides to know that after a certain point, what was lost in productivity wasn’t worth the missed hours of sleep. He leaned forward, pressed a soft kiss to the blond’s lips. “Nine o’clock.” It was a compromise. Certainly earlier than he’d go to bed otherwise, but enough time to at least wrap things up for the evening. He could . . . settle with that.

“Okay.” Ignis smiled at the agreement. “But at nine o’clock, there will be pajamas, tooth brushing, and blankets. Not a second after.”

Ignis offered another brief, chaste kiss before pulling away. That was a deal, then, and he had best get to work. Ducking into his at home office, he turned his attention to finishing the task at hand, a summarizing of that last agricultural meeting that absolutely could not wait until tomorrow. It would be a lie to say he didn’t have more than usual difficulty concentrating, but he was well-versed at overcoming such obstacles, and by the time nine o’clock rolled around, he was ready to wrap things up, such as they were. It was not quite on the dot when he tucked the last of his papers in his briefcase, latched it closed and set it aside before rising and stretching against the ache that had began to settle in his lower back.

In only a handful of minutes, they were crawling under blankets and tucking into bed. Ignis tucked himself against the blond, already starting to drift when he felt him shift. He blinked once, twice, before managing enough brainpower to speak.

“. . . I thought we were going to sleep.”

“I am. Just one second.” Prompto angled his phone to take a picture, and Ignis was too tired to even smile, though he realized there was really only one reason he’d be taking a picture of them now. To send to Gladio, he presumed. He’d have liked to say goodnight as well, but moving seemed far too much effort, and before he could change his mind, he was already drifting off.

Ignis woke to tangled limbs and his face pressed against soft skin. He had already began to wiggle free when he realized his cheek was wet, and goodness he had drooled in his sleep. All over. His boyfriend. How embarrassing. But fortunately Prompto was still dead to the world. If he just dabbed it up with the hem of his pajama top . . . yes, no one would have to know. No one would ever have to know.

Flushed with embarrassment, he ducked into the bathroom to shower, brushing his teeth and carefully sculpting his hair into his usual style before dressing, slipping into his usual slacks and button up, vest and tie. The familiar clothing gave him confidence and helped him to put that whole . . . drooling incident. . . behind him.

He turned his attention to preparing breakfast, frowning briefly when his phone buzzed while he was cracking eggs. When it turned out to be a text from Gladio wishing him a good morning, he smiled fondly, taking a moment to respond before returning to the matter at hand. Scrambling eggs. Dicing onions and peppers. Grating cheese. And combining all of the above into a moderate, presentable omelette.

Prompto came in fairly early on in the process, and Ignis paused in his preparations to pour the blond a cup of coffee, cream and sugar included. Ignis preferred his coffee black, which objectively was the best way to drink it, but the blonde most certainly did not.

“You do you feel this morning?” Hopefully not too poorly, given he had another day of training to get through. But then, the first week or two was the hardest, as Ignis recalled. He would adapt, but not quite this quickly.

“Do you know or remember those little toy cars that kids would get?” Ignis glanced up to see the blond gesturing to, he assumed, approximate size. “Like they didn’t go really fast, but if you got into one, you really felt like a superstar?” Ignis chuckled lightly. He knew what he was referring to, though he didn’t precisely have the experience he was describing. “Pink for girls, blue for boys, of course.”

“Noctis had one.” It had been a bit over the top, naturally, and in retrospect, had rather amusingly resembled the King’s own specialty car, the Regalia. “In black, of course. He never played with it.” Or at least, Ignis had never seen such. “By the time I knew him, even he was too big for it.” Maybe it had been different when he was younger, but Ignis hadn’t been around yet for that. “What about them?”

“I feel like I was run over by one of those.”

Caught by surprise, Ignis choked on his own laughter, gripping the counter lightly as he recovered. Face flushed with heat, he then plated their breakfast and joined the blond at the table. “I suppose that’s better than the alternative.” What the alternative was, he wasn’t exactly sure, but what Prompto was feeling was perfectly natural, after all.

Following breakfast, it was time for them to go their separate ways: Ignis to wake a grumpy prince and usher him off to his responsibilities and Prompto to the day’s training. Ignis offered to drive him, of course, but the blond turned him down. He wondered if perhaps he wished to take the run as a warm up, and Ignis certainly couldn’t deny him that. He knew, after all, that had been a routine for him far longer than Ignis himself had been. Or, just as likely, he didn't wish to be a burden, as though such a thing were ever possible, but there was no arguing with him about it. So it was off to work alone for him, off to a long day of meetings and paperwork, and he would have to trust the rest to work itself out.

It was, as it turned out, another difficult day. Not for any particular one reason. It wasn’t that anything was particularly more strenuous than any other day. He was just. Tired. There was no really denying it, at least to himself. He must have been coming down with something. He didn’t have time to be sick. Not that he ever did. All he could do was put taking time off as long as possible, and when the symptoms became too much to ignore, minimize the time he ended up having to take. Inevitably, it happened most every year, though it was a little early in the season for it. Irritating.

It resulted in another early night – and not just that night, but the night following, and again throughout the week. But just as he was becoming seriously concerned about the status of his Friday night, not to mention avoiding pulling more work into the weekend, help came from an unexpected – should have been expected, he supposed – source: Lars Perfidia. The man had been, quite frankly, a lifesend as of late. As the week had worn on, he’d began to show up more often in the afternoons, taking tasks off his hands and waving him off with a mild claim that he was “stuck here for a few more hours anyway” and “he needed to keep up to date on these things regardless,” even going so far to somewhat sardonically wish him a good time on his “friend date” at the end of the week.

Whatever his reasons, Ignis was grateful. Lars certainly had his flaws, but when it came to his job, his intentions were honorable. Perhaps one of these days he’d even convince Noct that he wasn’t so terrible as he always claimed.

. . . perhaps not.

Ignis loved coming home to Prompto, and tonight was no exception. He greeted the blond with a smile and a kiss, thanking him softly for joining Noctis for lunch. Not that he needed to thank his boyfriend for hanging out with his best friend, but it had certainly made his day easier. Noctis had been much better motivated, not to mention more pleasant to deal with, after spending time with a friend focused on something other than the business of the realm. If they did manage to make it a regular thing as suggested they might, well. Ignis could only see gains from that.

He sent Prompto down to the prince’s apartment ahead of him, assuring him it would only be a few minutes before he joined them. After all, it was Friday, and he had dinner yet to prepare. He simply had to put a few things in his at-home-office and change, or at least hang up his jacket and leave it behind. He really would only be a few minutes more.

When he arrived downstairs, he felt like prince was actually lying in wait for him, phone in hand, expression pinched tight with distress. He could feel the tension brewing from the moment Noctis opened his mouth, and he just. He didn’t have the wherewithal for an argument right now. If Noctis wanted take out – or pizza, as it would have it – than so be it. He sighed, pinched his nose, sincerely hoped he’d ordered one with vegetables on it, even knowing he didn’t intend to eat it, and let it go. Still. That freed up a little time. Time he could, he thought with a little pang of guilt, be using.

But the moment he suggested putting that time to good use, Noctis put his foot down about that as well. Or stomped it, actually, as though he were that little boy he’d first met instead of a full grown man and the future leader of their country. Goodness.

Yet, he could hardly refuse in the face of such obstinance when the thing he was asking for . . . was simply a little more time with an old friend. And it was Friday night, after all. Friday nights were often movie nights, now.

And so Ignis found himself squeezed between Noctis and the end of the couch with a glass of iced seltzer water and lemon while the younger boys queued up a movie – Prompto’s pick, this time, and one that Ignis himself was rather fond of, having grown up with it as one of his uncle’s favourites.

And at least when his concentration utterly failed to hold, he wouldn’t miss anything when they were talking about the movie afterwards. At this point, he practically had the dialogue memorized. Though truly, even without being entirely able to focus, it was nice enough just to let the noise wash over him, to tuck his cold feet under his human furnace of a boyfriend and relax for a while.

He was not quite asleep when someone shook his shoulder but groggy enough to make arguing the fact meaningless. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, only that the movie had ended more than a few minutes ago, and his drink was entirely melted where it sat on the coffee table in front of him. He blinked once, twice, slowly came to focus on Gladio’s face in front of him, bushy eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Hey, Iggy.” His voice was soft. Tender. “I think it’s time for bed.” One large hand was already on his shoulder, bracing to heave him to his feet. Ignis leveled a pointed glare at the larger man, just in case he got any smart ideas about doing anything more than ferrying him along. Otherwise, he had no arguments for this course of action. He was clearly tired, it was likely late, and he had a lot of prep work to get through for their date tomorrow. Being well-rested would help with that, and he certainly didn’t want to fall asleep – or almost fall asleep, as it was – during their date tomorrow as well.

He didn’t much remember the walk back up to his apartment, or even getting ready for bed, really. He remembered how ridiculously comfortable his bed was, and the cool pillowcase beneath his cheek. And then, when he woke, he was tangled up in two people instead of the usual one.

It took considerably more work to wiggle free from two people without waking either, as it so happened. Somehow, he managed it. Or managed it well enough, considering he pried himself away with little more than a few grumbles from either of the other two men. He stopped briefly at the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, then headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Breakfast. He was thinking pancakes. Fluffy, warm pancakes with golden syrup and fruit on the side – or on top, whichever was to taste. And protein. They definitely needed protein. Sausages were good with syrup. That was an easy choice. The only thing the meal was missing was . . . vegetables. Usually he’d fold them into an omelette, but . . .

Well, he supposed one skipped meal wouldn’t hurt anything . . . as long as no one ever, ever told Noctis.

Prompto emerged from their bedroom dressed for his morning run just as Ignis was placing the sausages into the preheated pan, turning them slightly before lidding it. He smiled automatically when he looked up to see the blond, pausing from his preparations as the blond leaned in for a quick kiss on his way by. And then Prompto was out the door, and Ignis’ full focus returned to the meal at hand.

By the time the blond got back from his run, Gladio was in the kitchen making a nuisance of himself. Snatching up pieces of fruit when his back was turned. Scooping up a whole pancake as Ignis put a pan in the sink to soak. Crowding his space when he dug into the fridge for the juice – and another can of Ebony for himself.

Ramuh’s beard, but he was about two minutes from sticking something in him, and Ignis was quite sure wasn’t going to be the kind of thing he’d enjoy. No, but really. All those jokes about stabbing people. They were just jokes. _Really._

And yet. Still. As frustrating as it was. It was a little endearing, too. It shouldn’t have been. Not someone as large as Gladio getting in the way while he was trying to cook. And yet. Yet. Waking up with the both of them here, in each others’ space . . . Comfortable. Together. It was really quite lovely, wasn’t it?

Both of his boyfriends, bless their idiot souls, immediately began to rough house, Gladio locking an arm around the smaller blond and ruffling his hair while the blond tried in vain to wiggle free. The both of them only settled as food was placed on the table and a throat pointedly cleared. Then it was a hop and skip and they settled in together to eat.

Ignis joined them, freshly brewed Ebony in hand, and smiled indulgently as plates were filled, pancakes smothered in fruit and honey, and his boyfriends dug in. Only once they’d taken their fill, he claimed a pancake for himself, adding a small pile of fruit and a couple sausage links before beginning to eat as well.

“This is so good, Iggy!”

Ignis grimaced. The compliment was appreciated, truly, but. “Mouth closed, please.” Enthusiasm or no, he really didn’t need to see anyone’s half eaten food. “But I am pleased you are satisfied.”

Personally speaking, he didn’t have a particularly large appetite in the mornings, but he hardly thought he was going to get away with his usual coffee and granola bar after cooking for the other two. Though he took considerably less, he felt borderline nauseous by the time he was finished, but then, that was fairly standard for mornings.

Once they’d all finished eating, he scooped up the dishes. Washing up was pleasant enough with Gladio and Prompto chatting in the background, discussing their plans for the day. It all felt very domestic. Gladio, it seemed, had promised to accompany his sister on a shopping trip. He was so soft for that girl. It was hard not to be, even without the blood relation. Iris Amicitia was an absolute delight, and she had more than just the Amicitia men wrapped around her devious little finger. It sounded a pleasant enough way, in any case, to spend a day doting on one’s little sister, even if it was partially an opportunity to use him as a pack horse.

And so Gladio would be parting ways shortly, leaving Ignis and Prompto to their own devices. Though in Ignis’ case, there was hardly time to take it easy. He had a date to prep for, and more than a little baking to get through before they'd be ready. Prompto, darling that he was, immediately offered to assist when he caught onto what he was up to . . . and normally Ignis would be perfectly happy to cook with his beloved, but he didn’t wish to spoil the surprise. And perhaps, he thought, he had another idea for a perfectly pleasant way for the blond to spend the day.

“Why don’t you take your camera down to the pier?” It had not been so long that he’d forgotten the blond’s interest in catching the sunset over the water . . . though that particular shot would be out of reach, just for today. But considering how long he’d laughed after seeing a seagull steal someone’s hot dog, not to mention his apparent fascination in the nearby tide pools, Ignis imagined he had plenty to capture his interest. “It’s been a while since you’ve made a day of it.”

Prompto’s pout was immediate. “You sure you don’t need help?” Ignis smiled fondly. He wasn’t so foolish as to have missed the blond’s concern for him lately, but truly, it was unnecessary. He was quite sure his recent exhaustion was merely whatever seasonal nonsense was going around. He had simply caught it earlier than usual, which he supposed may turn out to be something to be thankful for later.

“I’m perfectly fine, Darling.” He paused long enough to lean close to press a quick kiss to the blond’s cheek. “The word, not the acronym.”

The blond laughed and flushed charmingly, ultimately agreeing despite his reservations. Another quick kiss and he was off to the shower – alone, despite his usual attempts to lure Ignis in with him – and out of the apartment shortly after. Which left Ignis alone to prepare, and more importantly, to keep the evening’s menu entirely secret.

Excellent.

Though, of course, there were a few other details to handle as well. A quick check of the weather confirmed his plans would not be thwarted, and a quick text to Lars confirmed he would retrieve the prince this afternoon for dinner with the King. Ignis himself would wake him a few hours, knowing full well the fit he could expect if Lars made the attempt, and it just wasn’t worth risking Noct sleeping the day away and necessitating such an action.

Not to mention no matter how much the prince insisted that cold pizza was fine until he left to sup with his father, Ignis was not even remotely convinced not to make him at least one good meal for the day. After all, no one was going to make him eat the vegetables he pushed aside at dinner. Ignis, however, was an expert at forcing nutrition upon him. And it was a simple enough matter, after all, to put together a quick breakfast for his old friend, even if by the time he rose it was closer to lunch time.

Otherwise, his time was entirely his and entirely dedicated to the evening’s preparations. Everything he made would have to be finger food, but it also had to be something he could prepare in the time restraints he had. He’d kept that in mind while planning the menu, and he rather thought the results spoke for themselves:

Two varieties of hand pies, technically, though they had the same base. One was seasoned with a bit of paprika, thyme, and garlic, and the other, well. With a bit more heat than Ignis’ own palate could really tolerate, though he was well aware it was likely to be something both Gladio and Prompto enjoyed.

For vegetables, he had packed both cherry and banana tomatoes, baby carrots, and sliced bell peppers along with a small tub of creamy, reduced fat garlic dressing to dip in – made from scratch, of course.

Lastly was dessert. Again, this was an instance where there were only two varieties by technicality. Both types had the same banana oatmeal base with nuts, but he’d added caramel and dark chocolate chips into half the batch and fruit, soaked briefly in a cinnamon sugar mix then diced finely, into the other half.

By the time the other two returned to the apartment for their evening plans, everything was cooled and carefully packed away, if only just so. Enough for him to feel a touch smug on his impeccable timing, certainly. Now he only had to trust his boyfriends feared his wrath enough to stay out of it while he showered.

Someday, he was going to make cookies without getting flour on his clothes, apron or no apron, but today was not that day.

He showered and dressed, pairing his lone pair of oxfords with denim, a soft old henley in a color he knew complimented his eyes, and a sweater with a wide collar and buttons up the front. He styled his hair only minimally – enough to keep it out of his face, but little more – knowing at least one of his boyfriends seemed to prefer it that way.

When he came out of his bedroom, Prompto and Gladio were both sitting on the couch, waiting and frankly looking far too innocent about it. It was entirely too suspicious, and they had to have known it. However, a quick look into the kitchen and everything appeared untouched. Hmmm.

Well, whatever they were up to would come out sooner or later. It always did.

He retrieved the refrigerated items and added them to the basket where the cookies were already waiting, tucking the checkered cloth around it before closing the lid and retrieving keys and wallet from by the front door.

“Are you two quite ready?” A quick affirmative, and Prompto sprung to his feet, Gladio following at a somewhat more sedate pace. “Come along then.”

Ignis was driving, of course, as he was the one who knew where they were going, though their destination would become clear soon enough. After all, once the sign displaying the night’s showings was passed, there wasn’t much down that road but the Caelum Via Drive-in Theatre. Having a double showing wasn’t unusual. What was special about this showing was that it was two movies Ignis knew for a fact that Gladio loved and Prompto would love, even if he thought they were rather ridiculous himself. Tonberry King and Tonberry King 2: Backstabbed! They were absolute drivel. All flash and very little substance. But they _were_ rather lighthearted, and he knew for a fact the third movie in the series was coming out soon. Perhaps they could see it together as well at a later date. Or perhaps Gladio and Prompto could go, if it was more convenient. There was really no need for them to wait. After all, Ignis wasn’t the one who became overly excited discussing about how many kitchen knives they used in the fight scenes.

By the time they’d paid for their tickets and pulled up to the lot in front of the movie screen, his boyfriends were practically vibrating with excitement, the both of them. It was endearing, to say the least, though they hadn’t yet seemed to realize a change in seating would be required. After all, there were only two front seats and three of them, but the way Ignis saw it, Prompto could certainly take his seat and he could sit in the back. He wouldn’t have as good of a view from there, but he wasn’t particularly fussed about that reality.

Perhaps it would have been better to take Gladio’s truck with its bench seat, but then again, at what cost? That thing was a death trap, as far as he was concerned.

Once parked, he tucked his the keys in his pocket and stepped from the care while Gladio fiddled to sync the radio. He moved to the backseat, leaning across the picnic basket to address the blond.

“Why don’t you join Gladio up front, Darling?”

“Okay!” Prompto agreed with a huge grin, and then Ignis watched with amusement as, rather than taking his vacated seat, he joined Gladio in a rather more literal sense. The larger man pushed his seat back as the blond squished into the passenger side, pulling him in to perch on his lap in a canopy of giggles.

Well, that hadn’t exactly been what he’d intended, but he couldn’t complain about the results. Certainly not. He pulled lightly at his collar, finally just unbuttoning the top button of his henley before repositioning the basket so it would be easily accessible from the front seat, particularly after he moved his own seat back for more room.

Gods, they were lovely, tucked up together and happy. He was so lucky to be able to be here with them. Luckier than he’d ever thought possible. If someone had told him this is where he’d be even a year ago . . . he’d have certainly thought they were lying, and rather cruelly, at that.

“I’ve prepared Garula hand pies,” he explained, returning to his seat up front and twisting to pull out the first few containers. “The ones with the stars on the crust contain considerably more spice.” Which he imagined the blond, if not both, would gravitate to. “We also have tomatoes, carrots, and peppers with garlic dressing, and for dessert, cookies.” He had the containers open for about five seconds before greedy hands snatched their first pies up, appreciative moans accompanying the first bite. Ignis smiled. That was a success, then.

“Damn, Iggy. You really don’t disappoint.”

“It _is_ welcome to have an appreciative audience,” he commented mildly as Prompto reached for a baby carrot. The blond gave a little snort of laughter, knowing full well the only thing the prince likely wouldn’t have a complained about were the cookies, and truth be told, he’d probably only eat the ones with chocolate.

“I’ll show you how much I appreciate it later,” Gladio replied with a smirk and a waggle of his brow, and to Ignis’ great mortification, he could feel his face growing hot. Good grief.

“Shhhhh, it’s starting!” Prompto slapped at Gladio’s arm, wiggling in his lap, the little minx, and Ignis could only smirk when the larger man gave an audible gulp at the motion. Turnabout was fair play, after all.

Music swelled through the car's speakers as the opening scene began, and Ignis found himself watching his boyfriends more than the movie itself. Their rapt attention, the emotions that showed so openly in their expressions, not to mention the way the blond leaned into the larger man and snuggled up comfortably . . . well, it was a far more charming sight than this drivel about rival gangs and protecting the innocent. Like anything gangs did protected the innocent.

Not that they called them gangs. This was a _children’s_ movie, after all. Somehow. Astrals only know how they’d managed to convince anyone of that.

Every once in a while one of them would reach over for more food, and it was a simple matter for Ignis to move the container closer to questing hands, warmed by the grateful smile that followed. It wasn’t long before he remembered he’d packed drinks, too, and pulled them out to distribute. He’d forgone Ebony in favour of cider for all three of them, though his mostly remained untouched in the center console.

He was so full of love. And this. This moment, here with his boyfriends, was exactly what he needed. He couldn’t ask for anything more.


	15. Prompto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! Please enjoy! <3333

Including himself, there were a total of twelve cadets in his group. That was apparently some sort of tradition. Numbers divisible (and he actually remembered what that word meant, thank you math class) by six. Gladio said it wasn't a deal breaker. He said it wasn't like they waited until they had those numbers, but traditionally groups that fit the numbers tended to graduate whole - without dropouts.

It hadn't even properly started, and Prompto wasn't sure he was going to make it through the first day. Sure, he freaked out about anything and everything new. Sure. Definitely. He knew that. He also knew that he tended to not notice things that he was noticing today on purpose. Like the fact that out of all twelve new cadets, he was the only one with hair lighter than a dark brown. He was also the only one with freckles. In fact, he was the only one without perfect skin. They all said hello to him easily enough, but it was impossible to not notice the way they also held soft conversations among themselves. Not with him. They all knew each other or at least knew of each other.

It wasn't hard to put two and two together and come up with the fact that everyone else here came from a wealthy family or even minor nobility. It wasn't hard to figure out that he was the odd man out. He knew how this worked. He'd win them over if he was submissive and friendly. He'd never win them over if he wasn't. But he'd never graduate and be good enough to be on Noctis' retinue if he was.

It was about ten minutes before Cor the Immortal emerged and did his first check. It was apparently the only thing he did with new cadets every single day they came to training. Quality control. The more they advanced, the more they'd see him, and the more he had to keep an eye on them. It made sense. Prompto didn't think he'd ever get to the point in his training where he'd be sparring against him. It just wasn't something he could wrap his mind around.

After checking them all over, Cor gave them a first day speech. It was the sort of thing that was designed to make them feel hyped up and motivated, but Prompto was sure it was given to every single group that came in. Once he reached the end of it, Cor left them, and Prompto spent the rest of the day with people whose names he couldn't remember. He'd remember them with time and closeness, but his brain only had enough space in it at any one time to focus on one new thing. Between the options of remembering names and remembering the information about not getting his ass handed to him, Prompto tried very hard to remember the second one.

When they moved onto light practice, Prompto definitely got his ass handed to him anyway. The worst of any of them. He heard a few other cadets giggle. He wanted to quit right there. He got up again each time, but toward the end of the day it was truly a very near thing.

When their trainer told them to shower and go home, Prompto felt like he was five seconds away from dying. A shower sounded so amazing that he didn't even think about privacy until they actually got to the locker rooms, found that there were actually privacy curtains, and bothered to be mildly surprised by it. It wouldn't have mattered for once in his life. Sure, he'd never showered at school because there were no curtains, but he'd never been this sweaty and miserable in school.

The shower didn't make him any less miserable, but at least he was clean.

When he got out of the shower, he found a couple of his fellow cadets lingering by the doors. "Hey, Argentum." Prompto really, really, _really_ did not think it was a good thing that they remembered his name when he couldn't remember theirs. "You coming back tomorrow?"

"Yep," he said as happily and energetically as he could. "Bright and early." No need to tell them that he was always up bright and early.

"I wouldn't even bother."

Honestly, if he weren't doing this for Noctis - if he wouldn't disappoint Gladio and Ignis, he wouldn't either. "I'll still be here."

"Your funeral." The other boys left him then, and Prompto sighed to himself. Yeah. High school was just a tutorial on how the rest of life went. It followed you everywhere.

He went home, and somewhere between turning on his music app to listen and getting through the front door he'd gotten a text from Gladio telling him that he should stretch. Right, because if he didn't now, everything was going to be even worse tomorrow. He took off his shoes and stretched, feeling a burn in his calves and arms that he hadn't felt in years. By the end of it, he had a little helper on his shoulder. She batted playfully at his loose strands of hair, making Prompto laugh as it tickled his cheeks. Miraculously, he still finished his ten count stretches before he scooped her up off his shoulder.

He checked his phone again when he heard it ping, and he found another text from Gladio, telling him he'd made sure Ignis knew that he should be carb loading. He knew what that was, obviously, and he knew what it was supposed to do, but he'd never done that when he'd started out running, and he didn't want to do it now. It just sounded like weight to be gained. Couldn't he just eat a lot of greens and call it a day?

He didn't say that to Gladio. Despite bringing Noctis snack cakes and him hot chips, Prompto knew that Gladio took every aspect of his job seriously. He trained people, and particularly Noctis. He didn't just train them to be physically fit. He trained them to fight, and he trained them to be in their best health. If Gladio was saying he needed to be carb loading, he was saying it from the standpoint as a trainer. He wasn't going to argue with him about it just because Prompto didn't want to gain any weight.

He took Ms. Marbles and went to Ignis' bed, and for the next small forever he did something that wasn't quite sleeping, closer to dozing, and played games on his phone. It didn't make him feel any less useless, but Prompto couldn't remember being this tired this early in . . . well, a really long time.

At some point in his dozing, he heard the front door open, but his brain didn't even fully register it as something he should react to until he heard the bedroom door open, and even then he didn't lift his head until he felt fingers slide along his spine. "Shirt off," Ignis commanded instead of greeting him in any way. Even with his body still halfway asleep, Prompto moved to obey. The words had definitely been a command, though not said in Ignis' bedroom voice.

He heard Ignis pop a cap on something that definitely also didn't sound like a lube bottle, and without even looking, Prompto fell face forward back into the pillow. "What are you up to?" he mumbled into it as he even heard Ignis rub his hands together.

In response, Ignis put his hands - his very cold, moist hands - on his back. "Shit!" His brain woke up like he'd been electrocuted, and his body moved to get up, only to have Ignis shove his face back down.

"Apologies, it'll feel better in a moment."

"It better!" He grouched into the fluff. It did, when Ignis moved his now warmer hands up and down his back. It was clear that Ignis was rubbing something into his skin. He could even smell a pleasantly medicinal scent reaching his nose. It was the kind of thing that made him think of healing, but not overpowering. He'd assumed that Ignis was just rubbing the stuff into his skin to help with whatever soreness he'd likely have in the morning, but it wasn't until Ignis' thumbs began to dig in between his shoulder blades that Prompto realized this wasn't all it was.

"Ig~gy," he whined.

"Yes?"

"You don't gotta give me a freaking massage."

"Is it not helping?" Was it just him or did Ignis actually sound a little bit sad? His hands actually lifted up off his back as though he'd set it on fire.

"No. That's not--" Why? Why was he just so fucking bad at words?! "You just worked all day, came home to your boyfriend - who did not work all day, by the way - and you're going to give him the massage? I should be giving you a massage! You should be relaxing!" Instead, Ignis would be making dinner soon. Instead, he'd probably work for a couple more hours in his office before bed. Sometimes it seemed like Ignis would never rest.

"For one thing, Mr. Argentum -" Ignis put his hands back down, his thumbs instantly finding what must have been a knot in his muscles. They pressed down and moved in gentle circles, and Prompto bit his lip. How could something hurt yet feel so fucking good at the same time? "Getting to put my hands on you is not _work_. And you had a very hard day, I don't doubt it. Perhaps shorter than mine, but much more strenuous. I am more than happy to do this for you, Prompto." His thumbs found another knot, and Prompto had to stop himself from moaning.

"You. Really, don't gotta."

"I want to, Darling." Lips pressed gently against his shoulder. "Let me take care of you." Why did it have to sound like he was begging for a favor? Why did it have to sound like there was literally nothing he'd rather be doing at that moment than putting work into unwinding Prompto's body?

"Fine," he said at last. Was it just him? Or did he feel Ignis' hands grip him just a little bit tighter?

He didn't get a lot of thinking in for a little while after that. Like with everything else in the universe, Ignis' hands made massage feel easy. It was like magic, the way his hands could glide over him and work out any knots they found as well as work in whatever ointment it was that Ignis apparently favored. He didn't stop at his back either, he worked his shoulders, arms, calves, and eventually even his feet. How? How was it possible for someone to touch his six-damn feet and made them both feel like they were on fire with pain, yet also on fire with relief? It seemed impossible, but that was just Ignis.

He was impossibly perfect.

"How do you feel now?"

"Boneless," Prompto grumbled into his pillow. It was a pretty accurate response. He felt like trying to lift his arms would result in nothing at all yet, somehow, in the best possible way. He felt like he wasn't lying on a mattress. He felt like he was floating on air that would dump him down to ground eventually, but not yet.

"Not too boneless to give me a reward, I hope?"

"Depends on the reward." Prompto managed to turn his head just in time to see Ignis smile at him and lightly tap at his own lips. "That's not a reward for you," Prompto mused. "That's a reward for me."

"Mutual favor?" Ignis suggested.

Prompto snorted. "Sure. We can call it that." He did manage to push himself up far enough to kiss Ignis, but only just before he flopped back down and Ignis left him to his half misery-half pleasure to go start dinner.

It was about ten minutes before Prompto felt like he could move with any confidence again. Admittedly, when he swung his feet down to the floor, he wasn't a hundred percent positive that they'd support his weight, but then they did, and he wandered off into the kitchen. Ignis was boiling water, frying something that smelled like bacon but was probably something more high end, and stirring things together in a bowl. "It's not traditional," Ignis said when he realized that Prompto had joined him, "but would it bother you greatly if I added peas to this?"

"Okay, first thing - I'm not Noct." Ignis snorted at him. "Second thing, I-D-K what you're making or what's traditional for it."

"I'm making carbonara." The way Ignis said it was so plain and simple that it was suspicious. Prompto narrowed his eyes, and Ignis, without even looking up, smiled. Yeah. Suspicious. It was another second or five before it clicked.

"It's _carb_onara because Gladio told you to make sure I was _carb_ loading, isn't it?"

Ignis' smile turned positively evil. "It took Gladio fifteen minutes to text me back about that one. I knew you were my smart boyfriend."

It was Prompto's turn to snort. He wasn't smart. He wasn't anything even approaching smart, but it wasn't a fight he was going to instigate now. He wasn't interested in fishing for compliments. Not right now. "Can I help?"

Ignis considered it, which was always a great sign when it came to help. Usually it was just a straight out no. "If you're really all right with peas, I have a bag of them in the fridge. Shelling them would be of great help to me."

Shelling peas was a task so simple that not even Prompto could fuck it up. "You got it, Iggy."

It was a little bit of peace. Between the aftereffects of being taken apart by hands and ointment and the bliss of being allowed to help Ignis even in a small way, it allowed him about an hour's worth of anxiety free time. Dinner was delicious, if entirely too much carbs for him. Ignis was right, as he always was, about the peas. They cut some of the dish's heaviness, making it feel fresher than probably would have otherwise. Yeah, it was nice until Ignis cleared the dishes away and then returned with hands slightly damp from the dishwater that cupped Prompto's face. "You look so tired." Ignis' thumbs stroked his cheekbones gently, and Prompto swore he could fall asleep to that alone. "Why don't you go to bed early?"

Yeah, okay, sure, he was tired. He also wasn't the most tired one in this room. "I'll go to bed early," he began carefully, "if you come to bed early with me." The thumb stroking stopped. "That's the deal," he pressed. "Take it or leave it."

Ignis sighed, and the thumbs resumed their stroking. "You drive a hard bargain." Ignis tilted his head up and gave him a quick kiss. "Nine o'clock."

That wasn't quite early enough to be truly early, but it was an hour earlier than he could normally ever drag Ignis to bed. He'd be a fool to not take the offer. "Okay, but at nine o'clock, there will be pajamas, tooth brushing, and blankets. Not a second after."

It was actually 8:59 when Ignis emerged from his office to go start getting ready for bed. That was perhaps the first time he'd ever seen Ignis early to stop working. "I keep my promises," Ignis had said in response. Sure, he did, but Ignis and sleep were natural enemies. He tended to put it off as long as possible. Maybe Ignis did know how tired he himself really was right now.

It was only 9:15 when they were crawling under blankets and Prompto was unlocking his phone. "I thought we were going to sleep," Ignis mumbled, and if the slight slur was anything to go by, he was already halfway there.

"I am. Just one second."

He snapped a selfie of them, not really trying too hard to get good lighting or positions, and then he dropped it into his conversation with Gladio along with _Goodnight. <3_ He'd probably like that. He hadn't seen him all day, after all, though he'd probably seen Ignis at work. A small consolation was better than none at all.

He was already mostly asleep himself when he heard his phone buzz from its place on the table.

It was nice to wake up in the morning to two texts from Gladio: one telling them goodnight last night, and one telling him good luck this morning. Gladio didn't live with them, but Prompto couldn't say he was anything but attentive.

As he almost always was, Ignis was up before him, though judging by the progress he'd made on breakfast, it wasn't by a lot. "How do you feel this morning?"

Prompto considered his answer carefully. It was an important answer, because he knew Ignis was asking after both the training and the massage. "Do you know or remember those little toy cars that kids could get?" He made a motion with his hands to approximate their size. "Like they didn't go really fast, but if you got into one, you really felt like a superstar? Pink for girls, blue for boys, of course."

"Noctis had one," Ignis commented lightly. "In black, of course. He never played with it. By the time I knew him, even he was too big for it." Back then, Prompto thought, Ignis had probably felt a lot bigger than Noctis. As a kid, two years was a lot. Not so much now. "What about them?"

"I feel like I was run over by one of those."

He heard Ignis choke-laugh. It had definitely been a good answer, then. "I suppose that's better than the alternative."

After breakfast, they had to part ways. Ignis had to go down and make sure a certain prince got up, got dressed, and went to his job on time, and Prompto had to get to training. Ignis had offered to drive him first, but Prompto wouldn't hear of it. Sure, let Ignis add yet another thing to his plate. Yeah. Not gonna happen. Especially not while he had those dark circles under his eyes. If they got much darker, Ignis would probably have to resort to makeup to hide them.

Even without a ride from Ignis, he arrived before any of the other cadets, who all milled in about ten minutes after he did and stood around chatting lightly with one another while Prompto waited for lineup. Yep. Definitely high school all over again.

Exactly on time, Cor Leonis emerged to do his daily check, just as promised, and once he was satisfied the process started all over again. He had not magically gotten better at anything overnight and spent more time with his back on the mat looking up at the ceiling and wondering if he should even bother getting up again than he did on his feet. He did always get back up to his feet. Afterwards, he went down to the showers and the same lingering cadets asked if he'd come back tomorrow. "You shouldn't even bother. Really. You're just going to get hurt."

"And yet I'll see you in the morning."

Wash, rinse, repeat. By Friday Prompto wasn't sure he was ever going to get any better. He didn't feel like he was improving at all, just getting more and more sore. He'd conned Ignis into going to bed early almost every night, but the bit of extra sleep wasn't helping either of them, and honestly Prompto felt as exhausted both inside and out as Ignis looked. If it had been his turn to decide the date, he would have declared it date night _in_ where they just ordered takeout and went to bed at seven. It wasn't though. It was Ignis' turn, and honestly, Prompto was dreading it.

How was he going to fuck this one up? He'd fucked up the last two and bad things came in threes after all.

Maybe tomorrow was when they'd finally have enough of it.

When he emerged from the shower, last locker room shower of the week, he came across a sight he hadn't seen before. All the other cadets were still there, gathered in a loose group whispering among themselves. "I've never actually seen him this close before," he heard one of them whisper.

"He's way prettier than the pictures portray," whispered another.

He'd already figured out that the other cadets didn't care for him, but Prompto gathered the courage to ask anyway. "What are you guys--"

He heard a zipping sound right by his shoulder just an instant before. "Hey!"

Prompto startled. Bad. He gasped, put his hand to his heart, head tilted toward the sky. "Noct!" he gasped out, turning to look at his friend's shit eating grin. "Did you really _warp_ over here?"

Noctis didn't even bother to answer him. So the answer was yes, he definitely had. "Have you checked your phone yet?"

"No!" He began to fish it out of his pockets. "I don't check it until I'm offsite."

"Check it," Noctis said petulantly, as though he weren't doing that in front of his face. He could feel the weight of every single one of the cadets' eyes on him as he did. He didn't let it affect his behavior. Not with Noctis.

"You seriously could have just said you wanted lunch."

"And waste all the effort I put into that text?"

"Don't you have a meeting to be at?"

Noctis rolled his eyes at him as though he'd said the most stupid thing ever. "Specs put a timer on my phone. It'll go off when I need to start getting back. Which means you're wasting time." Noctis went so far as to reach out and lightly shake his arm. "Come on. I want a milkshake or something. I'll get you one too."

"I don't want your dirty money." Noctis fake laughed at him, and Prompto allowed himself to be dragged off. He didn't look back to see the other cadets reactions. He knew he didn't want to.

They ended up in a small little place that called itself a bistro and Prompto called a cafe. "They're pretty much the same thing."

"No. A bistro actually cooks things. This place just makes sandwiches and drinks."

Noctis raised an eyebrow at him before he slid his card into the reader. "You've been living with Ignis for too long."

"It's been less than a month!"

"Too. Damn. Long." He was smiling though, and Prompto smiled with him.

After they sat down, Prompto dug into his wallet and tried to hand over money to cover his order. Noctis shook his head at it. "Noct--"

"No," Noctis said firmly, a pout forming on his perfect lips. "When you get your first paycheck from the crownsguard, you can take me to lunch, okay? And pay for all of it. For now, don't worry about it."

That was a sort of deal that Noctis didn't offer very often, and there was something very fair about it. Prompto put his wallet away. "I thought you didn't want me to join."

"I didn't!" Noctis said quickly. He then bit his lip and started tracing shapes on the tabletop. The motion reminded Prompto too much of himself. "I _don't_. But you've already done it, and I wasn't going to stop you. It's just--" Noctis' eyes darted upward, and Prompto thought that maybe he was trying not to cry. "Tell me it's not about me. At least not completely. Tell me you're getting something out of it too."

"Dude, if I stick with it - " His mind drifted back toward the other cadets. It drifted back toward how much progress he wasn't making. Progress he didn't think he'd ever make. It was definitely an if. " - I'll make more money in two weeks than I made in two months at Ma's."

"Okay."

"I'll also get healthcare for free, which I was told I should thank you for, by the way."

Noctis made both a face and a sound. Prompto pegged them as shy and embarrassed. "Not healthcare. I pushed for non-essential procedures. Which is way less about the boob jobs the council probably thinks it's about and way more about getting people who are burn or abuse victims or people who don't conform to gender norms--" Noctis took a deep breath. "Nevermind. We can talk about that later. Go on."

"And if I stick with it for a whole year, I can still go to art school, and they'll pay for it."

"Okay, sure. Makes sense. You'll have the time. If you don't pick up a secondary thing."

"Yeah? What do you mean?"

Shakes were placed at their table, and Noctis took a long drink from his before he answered. "Like, Specs is my advisor first and crownsguard second. Gladio's full guard, sure, but he's shield first, my trainer second, and general trainer third. Being my retainer is something you gotta keep up with, yeah, but I only need my full retinue for events and outings. Sure, you'll always be on the job around me - "

"But that's normal."

Noctis nodded. "You might occasionally get assigned to do something else, but only if there's no one else. Because. You'll be mine. So you can pick up something else to do. Like you could be a trainer too, if you liked it, but if you don't, or don't find anything else, art school's good for a while."

"See? I'll have time, Noct. I'll have time, and money, and healthcare. It's not just about you. It's . . . a good way for me to get some independence. I want to be able to pay half the rent in the apartment."

"Please. Ignis is never letting you pay a yen in rent. Do you even know how much the rent is?"

No. No, Prompto didn't. He wasn't really sure he wanted to know. "But I could, if I had to. That's the point. I wouldn't need to rely on someone else to take care of me."

"And that's important to you?"

"Yes."

Noctis made a thoughtful sound. "It's not important to me."

"No offense, Noct, but it wouldn't be." He really didn't mean to offend him with that. He didn't want to start a fight, but no matter how hard he looked at it, the truth was that the people in his life had grown up in a world completely different from his. He knew of women who had spent their lives as housewives, never having a job outside the home, being worked to the bone. Miserable, yet unable to leave because there was nowhere to go. Nowhere or nohow to start over somewhere else. Prompto did not truly think he would be like those woman with Ignis or Gladio. They weren't like those husbands.

He never wanted to be in that position anyway.

Their food came. "So tell me more about your healthcare thing."

Prompto didn't miss the way Noctis' face flushed or the way his eyes lit up in pride. He didn't understand half of what Noctis told him, but he knew that it was a project that Noctis had put a lot of his own hard work into since graduation, and that it had apparently been the start of a multi-step plan. "So what's you're final step?"

"For now it's marriage," Noctis admitted softly. "I mean, the kind you, Ignis, and Gladio could take part in, if you wanted. That's...a long way off though."

"So what's step two?"

"Healthcare reform. But that's a multi-step thing itself." Noctis' phone finally began to ring in the most annoying alarm Prompto thought he'd ever heard. Was it . . ? Nails on a chalkboard? "That's my cue," Noctis said with a sigh, his fingers lightly swiping away the noise. "Thanks for coming out with me, though. Can we do this again?"

"Duh. I gotta pay your way next time, remember?"

His friend snorted, and it made Prompto smile. "Yeah." Arms stretched up high above Noctis' head before he finally stood to his feet. "I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"You bet!"

Prompto went home and waited for Ignis to return. When he did, he was greeted with a tired smile and a gentle kiss. "Thank you for going with him," Ignis told him softly. "He was more motivated the rest of the day.

"We're gonna go again, when I get my first paycheck."

"Lovely. Maybe someday you can make it a regular thing. I think that would be nice." As Prompto made his way down to Noctis' apartment, he agreed. Yeah, it would be nice. If it motivated Noctis, too, well that couldn't be a bad thing, right? He had to make it through training first, though. He still very much was not sure that he would.

Noctis opened the door to let him in almost immediately, but he was distracted by tip tapping away on his phone. "Gladio's here already," he said absentmindedly, wandering off down the hallway in a way that said pacing. Prompto didn't like a pacing Noctis. He turned his head toward Gladio instead.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile.

"Hey, baby," Gladio greeted in return with a smile that was all softness and teeth. He patted the space next to him, and Prompto sat himself back happily, eager to take in Gladio's warmth.

"What's Noct doing that's got him pacing?"

"Ordering pizza." Gladio paused. "I think it's pizza anyway."

"Iggy's not cooking?"

"He doesn't want him to, no." Gladio paused again. "Is he sleeping?"

"He is," Prompto responded a little too quickly. "Really. It's not insomnia. He's come to bed with me every night this week and fallen right asleep." Which was odd all by itself really. Prompto couldn't complain, because Ignis was even getting extra hours of sleep in, but if both Gladio and Noctis had noticed how tired he was, it was clear that the extra sleep wasn't helping.

"Is he getting sick?"

"I don't think so." Prompto felt himself sink deeper into the couch cushions. He didn't have sniffles. He wasn't drinking tea. He wasn't doing any of his normal sick routines that Prompto had gotten used to seeing even before they'd started dating. He wasn't taking medicine. He wasn't eating comfort foods. He was just. Just. "He's just tired."

Gladio was quiet for a minute. "Maybe after the holidays we can get him to take a couple days off."

"Maybe," Prompto mumbled. That was so far away though. Something had to give before that.

"Anyway," Gladio said, voice a little more chipper. "Tell me about your first week of training." One large arm came up and around Prompto's shoulders to pull him close, and Prompto felt safe. Not that he thought anything in Noctis' apartment would hurt him, but there was just something about it that was safe. He leaned into it.

"I got my ass kicked." He'd already said as much over text. He'd been trying to keep Gladio in the loop all week but also not give him too many details.

"Nothing bad enough to need a potion?"

"Nah." Fingers gently stroked his shoulder. It somehow made Prompto want to cry. "Just, you know, tired, sore, bruised. If I had an ego before, it's gone."

"It'll get better."

"Will it? Will it really?" He made the words sound joking, even though it was truly how he felt. "Because it really only feels like everyone else is already there and I'm just walking in place."

Gladio snorted, his fingers picked up the pace on stroking his shoulder. "Yeah, because most of your group has known for years what they were going to go for. They've been doing at least light training for years. You started on Monday and are starting from absolute scratch. This stuff is more intense. You'll notice the gap closing soon enough."

"What if I don't?"

"Then I'll give you some training, too. Personalized. That'll definitely help."

"I don't want to be favored. I want to earn it on my own."

"A- It's not favoring. It's putting in the work, and that's how anyone who matters would see it." Gladio shifted a little, their sides pressed together a little more firmly. "B- You'll all be training with me eventually, if you make it past these first couple portions. C- I often work independently with a straggler. Hell, if you just wanted to come watch me and Noct one Wednesday, that'd be good too." Gladio squeezed him close, a sign of affection that just made the warm feeling of safety spread through his stomach. Maybe a little something else, too. "And before you say that's favoring too, you're already marked for Noctis' retinue. You'll need to learn how to fight with us - work with us. Starting now would not be a terrible idea."

All of Gladio's words made sense. They did. Really. Prompto could see all the logic and thought that went into them. He could see how seriously Gladio took his job in them. He loved that, but still. "I'll think about it."

"You do that," Gladio said gently. "I wouldn't recommend it for a bit anyway. Your muscles are still just getting used to this level of activity. Think on it. Text me anytime with your answer. Text me again anytime if you change your mind on that answer."

It was at that moment that Noctis both returned from ordering food and the front door opened to let Ignis in. Prompto settled in to watch the fight that would inevitably ensue about the ordering of food. It wasn't like they didn't have some semblance of an argument about it every week, anyway. Prompto found himself very surprised to see only mild push back on Ignis' part. A sigh. A pinching of his nose. Acceptance.

From the couch, he heard Ignis say to Noctis that he supposed he could go back upstairs and get some extra things done before the weekend. "No!" He heard Noctis say in return, stamping one foot like a tiny child. "I haven't seen you outside of work at all for like a week! Stay! Please?"

It was surprising how quickly Ignis caved to that too, probably because he was too tired to argue.

Something would have to give way before the holidays were over.

It was a nice night. They let him pick the movie, and he picked a classic. At least he thought it was a classic. It seemed that Noctis had never seen _The Princess Bride,_ and he wasn't too sure about Gladio. Ignis definitely knew it well. He wasn't, like, mouthing along or anything, but he was definitely familiar with it, to Prompto's mild surprise. It was just as well, though. He started to drift not that far into it. He only truly came back to consciousness at the end when they began to head back upstairs. That was okay. Prompto had gotten to see Noctis go through phases like the sick boy that was being read to - from disgusted to invested, slowly but surely.

He was sure they'd watch it again.

Gladio opted to stay the night rather than go home, and Prompto definitely could not complain about extra cuddles. It was nice, when he stayed. He thought Ignis slept better when Gladio stayed, too. The cherry on top.

When he woke in the morning, Ignis was starting breakfast, and Prompto decided to go for his run. He'd been skipping out on it all week because of training, but the reality was that he couldn't really afford to. He had to start going again. Every morning. There would be consequences if he didn't. He paused just long enough to get a kiss out of Ignis and then made his way out. His legs began to burn before his second mile, and yeah, he couldn't afford to keep skipping it. He made it through, though, and got back to the apartment before Ignis was totally finished with breakfast, and this time Gladio was up, too. How could he miss it, when Gladio immediately head locked him like he was some sort of child?

Soon he was pushing back, and they were practically play-fighting by the time Ignis cleared his throat to make them stop. His lungs gasped for air as he sat down to eat. Yeah. No. No more skipping. This was only the start of the bad things that would happen if he did.

After they ate, Gladio headed out. He was going to spend the day with his sister, which sounded nice. It wouldn't be forever, after all, just until this evening when Ignis took them out for his date . . . whatever it was. They didn't know, yet. Whatever it was, it seemed to involve a lot of cooking, because as soon as Gladio was out the door, Ignis was back in the kitchen. Though he offered to help him, Ignis told him no. It stung a bit, even when coupled with the idea for him to go down to the piers.

He took his camera and went anyway. It _had_ been a while since he'd been able to spend good quality time with it. Still, it rung a bit hollow knowing that he was leaving Ignis behind to do what looked like it was probably a lot of work, along with the fact that he wouldn't be there long enough to get the shot he really wanted. The sunset. Someday. Someday he'd get that shot. It'd be the jewel of his portfolio. Someday. Not today.

Most of his shots revolved around a group of seagulls that were way, way, way too familiar with humans and allowed him to follow them around as he snapped photos. He also got in shots of three different dogs and one cat before he had to get back. He shook his fist at the sky before he got on the bus, though. Someday, he silently told it again. The sunset would not elude him.

He arrived back home before Gladio, but not before Ignis had all his cooking put away. Suspicious. He narrowed his eyes at him, but Ignis only smiled at him and shooed him off to get changed. Gladio returned while he was pulling his shirt over his head, not that he saw him, but he heard it. Gladio's voice coming in faintly through the door. He smoothed his shirt out with his hands, pausing just long enough to feel vaguely dissatisfied, even though nothing had changed, before he went on out.

Ignis paused him on his way out to the living room. "I'm going to take a quick shower and dress. Then we'll be on our way."

"Okay!"

He waited until the bathroom door was closed before going out to the living room, where Gladio was waiting patiently on the couch. "Do you wanna go look and see what he made?"

"Do you wanna live?"

"He doesn't have to know we looked!"

"No, you little agent of chaos. He'll know. It's Ignis. He'll fucking know."

Prompto knew that Gladio was probably right. It was Ignis, after all, but he was just so curious as to what he'd been making that required him to kick them both out of the apartment all day. The need to satisfy his curiosity made him take steps toward the kitchen. He heard Gladio get up to follow him, but what he didn't expect was for Gladio grasp at his shoulder. He didn't expect Gladio to turn him around or for him to cup his face in his hands. He _definitely_ didn't expect Gladio to pull him into a kiss that was immediately more than just a simple kiss.

It was entirely less surprising when Gladio hauled him up by his waist and simply carried him back to the couch as though he weighed nothing. Prompto in return was happy to dig his fingers into Gladio's hair and to straddle him on the couch. He was only encouraged by the appreciative hum against his mouth when he tugged lightly. He liked it when Gladio's hands gripped at his waist tightly, sliding ever so slowly lower.

"I know you're distracting me," he hissed when their lips parted.

"Is it working?" Gladio asked just before he set his mouth against Prompto's neck and sucked.

"Yes," Prompto all but gasped. His fingers tugged a little harder. Gladio chuckled, and that did not help at all.

"Good."

All in all, Prompto considered this an excellent way to pass the time, and they continued on attached to one another until Prompto heard the door open. When he heard that, they parted like children who had been caught trying to take cookies from the cookie jar. They didn't have to, Prompto knew. He knew Ignis was definitely operating on the idea that he and Gladio had been sleeping together since about two days after they'd become a couple. He was okay with that. He was definitely going to be okay with them making out on the couch, yet it felt . . . weird to be walked in on.

It was weird anyway when Ignis walked out and saw their faces and carefully measured distance apart. He guessed the wrong thing, though. He went and checked his food. (It was in a basket, Prompto realized then. An actual fucking picnic basket! He'd never actually seen one. It was so . . . amazing.) Maybe Gladio had saved his life by dragging him away for make outs.

Ignis bounced around the kitchen for a couple of minutes, sticking this thing and that into the _picnic basket_. (Again. So cool.) After he was finished, they all made their way down to the car. He let Gladio have shotgun, as a treat.

They drove for a bit, out into a not quite so densely populated part of the city. This wasn't a rich part of the city either. This was more . . . normal land. Average land. His brow began to knit as he wondered more and more where Ignis could possibly be taking them. It wasn't until he saw the showtimes that he really knew that they were going to see a movie. At the drive in theater. He'd never been here! And he'd never seen the movies displayed on the billboard! The Tonberry King movies. They'd come out when he'd been a child, and it wasn't socially acceptable for children to go to a movie theater alone. He knew a third one was coming. He'd thought about maybe streaming them, but there were also so many other things he wanted to watch . . .

To see them on a giant screen from the comfort of his car? That sounded amazing.

Once they parked, Ignis got out of the car and began to fiddle with his super cool picnic basket. "Why don't you join Gladio up front, Darling?"

Prompto grinned. "Okay!" He knew what Ignis meant. He did. He knew Ignis intended for him to sit in the driver's seat, but Prompto was going to show him that wasn't necessary. He opened the passenger side door with complete and utter seriousness, and Gladio did nothing more than laugh as he pushed his seat back. When he reached for his waist for the second time that evening, they were both giggling uncontrollably, and when the door was closed again to seal the deal, Prompto's heart felt light.

Ignis returned to his driver's seat exactly as planned, and Prompto stayed on Gladio's lap as they ate delicious pies and cookies and eventually drank cider. They watched the movies, and Gladio didn't seem to care, or at least not mind, about Prompto's occasional commentary. "How are these kids' movies? How?"

Gladio chuckled in his ear. "It's one of the great mysteries of the universe."

"Gladio, the lady tonberry literally just said that she betrayed him because the rival gang leader gives better dick."

Gladio would have howled with laughter, if Ignis weren't fast asleep next to them. Truly, that was the one downside of their date. Ignis was still too tired to enjoy it with them. "She did not use the word dick."

"But that is what she meant!" Anyone operating at something higher than a second grade level of thinking would know exactly what she meant! It wasn't anything resembling the sort of joke that would fly over a child's head now but make sense when they nostalgia-watched later as an adult. It was literally a plot point. Prompto was horrified. He enjoyed the rest of the movie anyway.

When it was over, they stayed exactly as they were until the very end of the credits, and even beyond that until the most of the other cars had left. Then there was no choice but to wake Ignis up. Gladio offered to drive them back, but Ignis, of course, refused. The drive back was quiet. It was late after all, and Ignis wasn't the only tired one by that point. Getting him to bed was the first priority once they got back to the apartment, though, and he gave absolutely zero argument about it.

"Are you sure he's not getting sick? Or that his insomnia isn't back on its bullshit?"

"I really don't think so." Prompto sighed a bit, hating how worried Ignis' peacefully sleeping face made them both. "He's been falling asleep faster than me most days, and he's not showing any other signs of sickness. He's just . . . tired."

They made their way out of the bedroom. Prompto stretched his arms high over his head, and, damn, that felt good. "Are you heading to bed now too? Should I go?"

"You can stay the night again," Prompto said as he twisted his neck, "but I was definitely thinking of doing a little something else before I went to bed."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Prompto agreed just before he reached up to pull Gladio's face down to his. He put all his hunger into it, and then, if that didn't make it clear enough, he slid his hands down to Gladio's belt and pulled so that there was no space between them. "You have been manhandling me all night, mister. I'd appreciate it if you'd properly _manhandle_ me."

Gladio snort-laughed against his mouth, and Prompto didn't think that was a bad thing. Especially not when those hands returned to his waist once again, holding him tightly. As though there were any chance he wanted to escape their grasp. "Iggy won't mind?"

Prompto pulled back, just a little. "Are you worried about it?"

"A bit."

Prompto kissed at Gladio's neck. "We can stop, wait until he's awake to ask him properly."

"But? I hear the but."

It was Prompto's turn to snort-laugh. "But Ignis would be way more surprised to hear we haven't been fucking three times a week since we got together."

"That's a little much."

"Please. He knows what I am."

"The sex monster. I remember." Gladio gave a little pause. "I'd like to, if you're sure Ignis won't mind."

There was never a great deal of things that Prompto was sure about. "He won't." He was sure about this.

"Then by all means, show me what you have in mind."

What Prompto had in mind didn't really take long, but that was okay. It was late, and they were tired, and it felt good. He assumed it felt good for both of them, judging by the way Gladio drew his face back up when they were finished. The way he kissed him slowly, as though there were nothing else he'd rather be doing in this entire world. Prompto felt much the same. He'd been all keyed up before, though to be perfectly honest, he hadn't known it until now, when the feeling was gone. Now . . . now he felt good. Relaxed. Ready to go to bed and cuddle. Ready to pretend Monday wasn't charging toward him.

"Should I go?"

"Yeah," Prompto said with a small laugh. "We just got each other off. I'm in such a rush to have you out of my arms."

"Okay, Mr. Sarcasm. That is how it works for some people."

"Usually casual relationships."

"Yeah."

"Let's be real, Gladio. I've never done a single thing in my life casually." Even as he set his chin on Gladio's shoulder he tried to think of anything he'd done casually. The only thing his brain could come up with was crushes. Could he even count that? It wasn't his fault that everyone was so pretty. He couldn't control what his eyes saw.

Gladio's hand began to rub his back. Prompto closed his eyes in bliss. "You seem like you're about to fall asleep."

"I am," he grumbled. "Don't make me walk you to the door. Come cuddle in bed instead."

"Okay, baby." The hand stopped rubbing and began to pat at his shoulder instead. "You gotta get up first though."

"The universe is so unfair." Gladio laughed, but made him get up anyway. Prompto would admit it was worth it, though, when they were both back properly in bed, and Ignis instantly sought out their warmth. He fell asleep satisfied and happy watching Gladio gently stroke his fingers along Ignis' cheek.

Gladio didn't stay long in the morning. He had things to go do, but he stayed long enough for Prompto to get back from his run, and long enough to "get in Ignis' way" as he cooked. He stayed long enough that Prompto could watch as he gave Ignis' cheek a kiss, and Prompto could see all the softness in his face for him. "Don't work too hard," he told Ignis, though all three of them knew he would, even though it was Sunday.

Prompto got a kiss on his forehead, and a soft wish of luck on his next week of training. Internally, Prompto sighed. It was going to be a nightmare. It was. He didn't say that.

Once Gladio was gone, a plate with an omelet, toast, and a muffin was slid in front of him, and Ignis sat across from him with his coffee. "I hope you two had fun last night."

It was a good thing Prompto hadn't taken a bite yet. "We were quiet! I swear!"

Ignis chuckled. "You were. Or at least you didn't wake me. You have your sated expression on this morning. That's all."

"I don't like that I have a face for that."

"I do," Ignis replied softly. "It's one of my favorites."

"Gladio was worried that you were gonna be mad that we _had fun_ without you the first time."

That. That made Ignis pause. "I was fully under the impression that you'd been seeing each other intimately on a regular basis for the last three weeks. I'm under no illusions regarding your needs."

"So you're saying I wear you out."

Ignis gave a small laugh - more of a chuckle, really. "No, but I cannot say that I think you having two people to turn to is a bad thing. The only thing is that my usual rules still apply."

"No kitchen sex. I know." It was really Ignis' only rule that they didn't both feel the same about. He couldn't complain.

For Prompto the day was spent rather lazily. After breakfast, Ignis went off into his office to do work, and Prompto spent the day on the couch with Ms. Marbles watching his ever growing list of movies and shows that various sources said he needed to watch. In the afternoon, Noctis brought up second day cold pizza for lunch and joined him. It was the only time that Ms. Marbles abandoned him, perfectly happy to get cuddles from someone she didn't see every day.

"She's already getting so big."

"She really is."

"Have you ever thought of taking her for walks?"

"What? Like a dog?"

"Yeah. Specs found her under a car, right? Maybe she'd like revisiting outside."

"Maybe." Could a cat keep up with him if he took her for runs? Prompto had no idea. He'd have to look into it.

Noctis slunk back down to his own apartment before Ignis emerged to make dinner. Prompto suspected Noctis did not want to be around to be forced into vegetables. They had dinner, and Ignis went back into his office. Prompto pulled him back to bed early, though. Even after sleeping all night the night before, he still seemed dead tired. He proved it by falling asleep immediately again.

Should he take him to the hospital? Ignis didn't seem concerned about it, but it only seemed to be getting worse.

The morning brought with it dread. It settled into his stomach to stay like it was an old friend, and Prompto pretended it wasn't there. He went for his run, he ate breakfast, smiled and talked with Ignis, and then went off toward his doom.

To his vague surprise, nothing unusual happened immediately. He'd been expecting immediate punishment for Friday. Immediate punishment for being outed as the Prince's friend. He'd already determined that this was high school again, and in high school he'd spent quite a bit of time being punished for approaching someone that no one else would. It had only been small things, and they'd given up by senior year, but still. Things. He'd expected it, but when he arrived it was business as usual. He was ignored by the other cadets until it was time for one on ones. Then he was down on the mat more than he was up, and that was normal, too.

He felt his usual sore sense of defeat and the urge to give up by the time he was dragging himself off to the showers. Nothing strange there. He just sucked and wasn't getting any better. The desire to admit defeat and drop out just burned a little bit brighter. He was never going to be good enough for Noctis' retinue. Not today, he told the desire. If he told it no every day, eventually he'd get through this one way or another, right? Either eventually he'd barely skate by, or they'd tell him he wasn't good enough, and he'd accept that. Yeah, he told himself as he hoisted his bag up over his shoulder. That was just going to be how it worked.

He'd barely gotten outside the gates when he heard now familiar voices explode into excited chattering. "There he is!"

"Go, go, go!"

"Throw it! Before he gets away!"

Prompto barely had any time to react before he felt several objects hit him. None of them were particularly hard. They didn't hurt him when they collided. What they did do was burst on impact, and Prompto was soaked in water. In the November air he felt the chill down to his bones in seconds. "What the fuck?!" He screeched at the other cadets. There were five of them, all perfect in their ideal Lucian beauty. Prompto tried to not hate anyone, ever, but in that moment he hated them, just a little.

"You know what this is for!" Cadet Laneus spat at him. "Don't even pretend you don't!"

Prompto did. He'd been expecting it earlier in the day, but now he saw that they were smarter than that. They weren't going to pick at him for being Noctis' friend where the trainers could see. They'd do it here, where he had no where to go, no one to show it to, and no one would believe him. This was their revenge, and it would not be the last of it.

He turned tail and ran.

He was already tired, but between going for an unexpected second run, the wetness of his clothes, the cold that tried to overtake him, and the emotions that swirled inside of him, he was exhausted enough that by the time he got into the apartment, he broke down and cried. He cried through his teeth chattering. He cried through more than half frozen clothes.

He should give up. He should. There was no way he was going to pass basic like this. He should. But he was too stupid for that. What had he said to Gladio? He didn't do anything casually? Well. He meant it. He was just going to have to suffer.

After he got his sobbing down to something more controlled, he clawed his way out of his frozen clothes and hung his coat up. He hoped it was dry by morning. When he'd have to wear it again. He dried himself off, got into new clothes, and laid back on the couch where Ms. Marbles settled on his chest with a rumbling purr. Even with all that, his feet were still cold by the time Ignis came home.

Prompto had hoped that seeing Ignis would brighten his mood, but instead it only made everything worse. Ignis somehow looked even more exhausted than Prompto felt. How? The urge to cry returned. He beat it back. No. Not in front of Ignis. That wasn't allowed. He couldn't burden Ignis any more than he already had with . . . everything else that had happened this month alone. Gods, he was the worst.

"How was your day, Darling?"

"It was fine," Prompto lied with a smile on his face. "Just, you know, I still suck."

"This is only the start of your second week," Ignis tried to assure him. "You'll start improving in no time."

If only Prompto could believe that.

After dinner, Ignis disappeared back into his office. "Only for an hour," he'd promised. "I thought maybe we'd watch a movie or something after that before bed."

"That sounds good." It did. It would be a nice end to an otherwise terrible day. Ignis would be resting too, not working himself closer and closer to passing out as he seemed to be. He'd probably fall asleep during this movie, too, and that was fine. Just an excuse to drag him to bed even earlier than he had been.

It wasn't fine. Ignis had not been in his office for even fifteen minutes when Prompto heard the coughing. It drew him up from his seat and down the hall to Ignis' office. By then it had stopped, but there was another fit almost immediately.

Oh. _Oh_.

Something slid perfectly into place in his brain and suddenly his whole life seemed to make sense. Everyone seemed to be noticing that Ignis was getting tired. Everyone. Even Ignis himself knew, allowing himself to be dragged off to bed before he normally would. Everyone also seemed to notice that he wasn't getting sick. There were no other symptoms. It was just a persistent tiredness that wouldn't go away. At home, Ignis wasn't doing any of his normal sick things. He'd said that, too.

Now there was this. Ignis was coughing. Not a one off thing where he'd clearly choked on his own saliva but coughing like he was dying. Ignis was tired. Ignis had a cough. Ignis had nothing else.

Somewhere in between the cracks, Ignis had developed Hanahaki again. Prompto pressed his hand to his mouth. He tried to tell himself that it didn't make sense. Ignis had been nothing but good to him. In fact, Ignis had been being even sweeter than usual with him. They'd said they loved each other! It didn't make sense!

But what if it did?

What if Ignis being _so_ nice and _so_ loving was him overcompensating for something that no longer existed? It wouldn't even be unlike him. After all, Ignis had literally gone through a surgery to avoid telling Prompto how he felt. What if?

His brain would not stop saying _What if?_

He couldn't confront him about it. Ignis would just shut down or avoid him about it. All he could do was wait for it to come to a head, and it would. Eventually. One way or another. If he was right, and the more he thought about it the more convinced he was, and it was Hanahaki, all he could do when it came to a head was let Ignis go. It would be wrong to keep him in a relationship he didn't want anymore, even if he still loved him with every fiber of his being. All he could do was let him go and hope he was as happy loving someone else.

He still hadn't even moved all of this things to the apartment, anyway. He could move back easily . . .

. . . but, oh gods, what about Gladio?

He couldn't think about that now. He was about to break down as it was. If he thought about what would happen to their relationship with Gladio, he might die right there.

Prompto took a deep breath and knocked on the door just as another, softer cough reached his ears. "Come in."

He didn't go into the office fully. He just stuck his head through the door. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Ignis tried to assure him. "I must be coming down with a cold or such. Please try not to catch it." Prompto managed a small laugh. As though he could do anything about that. They slept in the same bed. They kissed multiple times daily. If it were a cold, Prompto would have it in no time. It wasn't, though. It wasn't a cold.

"Let me make you some tea."

"You don't have to do that, Darling."

"Let me take care of you," he said without thinking. "Please?" While he still could. While he was still Ignis' boyfriend to be able to do so. It wouldn't be for much longer, he knew, but . . . just for now. "You always take care of me. Let me take care of you."

"All right," Ignis relented after a minute. "Just tea though. Don't go out of your way."

Prompto forced a smile onto his lips. "I'll be right back with it."

His hands shook the whole time. He bit his lip, and fought back tears, and somehow managed to not sob. He added lemon and honey and somehow managed to not burn himself at all before he sat a mug of steaming, probably terrible tea next to Ignis' paperwork. "Slowly. It's still very hot, okay?"

"Thank you." Fingers that held their own very slight tremble touched his cheek. "I love you."

For the first time since Ignis had started saying it aloud, Prompto didn't believe him. He leaned into the touch anyway.

"I love you too."


	16. Clarus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday!
> 
> We hope you enjoy this chapter from a POV you've not seen before. <333333

Clarus Amicitia was not having a good month. It seemed like one thing was happening after another lately, and none of it good. First there was the incident at the haunted house that, objectively speaking, he couldn’t call all bad. His son had done well. He’d done his duty, and he was proud.

But then, less than two weeks later, that son of his found himself in the thick of an entirely different mess, though this time without the prince himself involved. He towed the file up to fill in Reggie on the situation during their morning coffee, which Tellus often joined them for, though it was unlikely it was his first brew of the day at that point. And the man certainly had his own contributions to consider, given the wide-reaching effects the night’s events would have.

As Reggie and he settled in with their drinks, Tellus arrived, his own coffee in hand – the man was ridiculously particular about his brew – as well as an actual covered basket that Clarus sure hoped was full of muffins or biscuits or astrals both would be even better. He’d already pulled the files for the subject at hand, but he was more than happy to hand them over to the strategist in exchange for sweet, delicious baked goods.

Most people felt this away about Ventus’ muffins, he suspected. If they didn’t, well. They’d either never had them, or they couldn’t be trusted. On principle, even.

Clarus gave them both an overview of the previous night’s events as Tellus flipped through the file at hand, starting with the phone call from his son and the alert that followed and ending with a summary of the statements given after help had arrived on the scene. It was, frankly, a rather fortuitous turn of events. It was a great break in the Bisque Doll case, which contrary to its name, was not an ongoing investigation into the smuggling of antique dolls, but rather the drugs inside their hollowed out bodies, among another things.

Their creepy, creepy hollowed out bodies.

Despite it being an overall positive turn of events, by the time he finished, his old friend was upset rather than relieved, kingly brow furrowed with concern. That was due to the boys’ involvement, no doubt. They’d all grown up together, in some sense, which meant they’d all shared responsibility for them at one time or another. And it was clear enough to see, in Reggie’s eyes, they were all as good as family to him.

“How’s your boy?” The question clearly directed elsewhere, Clarus momentarily tuned out the conversation. There was something about this whole situation that bothered him. Something that just didn’t quite sit right. The venue wasn’t the strangest thing. Clarus knew perfectly well high class and delicious didn’t always go hand in hand, and at least one of the three was a connoisseur of different cuisines. No, it was . . .

“It’s strange they all happened to be there.” If they were eating out as friends, why just the three of them? It was odd that the prince had been excluded.

“Clar.” The tone was calm, patient, and the exact voice his liege used on idiots. Clarus had heard that voice so many times. So, so very many times. Usually it wasn’t directed at him. He looked up to see Tellus giving him a particular sort of look as well, like he was looking at something especially unbelievable. Like when Councilman Auritulus, just yesterday, was arguing that privatized healthcare would offer better quality of care and be more efficient (ha!), as though literally everyone there didn’t know the man’s significant financial stake in the matter was his real motivation.

What was the problem? It was a reasonable question. There weren’t a lot of reasons one might exclude a friend from an outing, after all. If said friend was busy, for example, though he rather thought if that were the case, they’d just go a different night? He couldn’t comment on whether the prince may not like the type of food, since he had absolutely no idea what it was. The only other real reason one might split up the friend group was if there were dating going on with the group, but . . .

Oh. _Oh._

“That’s unacceptable.” The way Tellus’ expression went neutral wasn’t a good sign, he knew; they’d been friends for going on twenty years now. But he didn’t mean it like that. There was nothing wrong with the concept in general. But Gladio had a legacy. There were expectations that he produce the next generation of shields, and his duty wasn’t something he could just push off onto his little sister over an infatuation.

Nothing against the other two boys in question. They were both fine young men. But Amicitias had responsibilities. That was a reality he’d had to accept once, too. “I’ll need to speak with him . . . “ he mused. He didn’t imagine it was going to be a pleasant conversation, but it was one he couldn’t avoid. Whatever happened in the present, Gladio would see someday that he’d only been acting in his best interests. Clarus knew that from experience as well.

“Of course, I don’t mean it like _that_.” The room was quiet. Too quiet. But he didn’t know how to explain how he did meant it without sounding like an asshole. Tellus had come from a noble family. He should understand, right?

“How, precisely, did you mean it?”

Clarus wasn’t stupid. That was a trap if he’d ever heard one. Couldn’t get him that easily. He’d been _married_.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty.” The man gave the customary bow, tucked the folder under his arm, taking his drink but leaving the muffins behind. “Lord Amicitia,” he added coolly with a barely present nod. Then, without further comment, he strode from the room, cutting the visit short. Not that it was entirely unusual for Tellus not to stay long. But clearly, he’d done that for a specific reason.

“Well done, Clar.” Talk about rubbing it in. That was definitely still Reggie’s trademark _I’m surrounded by idiots_ voice. “You’ve just insulted the most dangerous man in the kingdom.”

Really? Tellus Scientia? That’s who he was going with? The man was, what? 5’10’’? Probably like 180 soaking wet, and what was he going to do, anyway? Reassign him to some shit hole embassy in Niflheim? He was the King’s Shield. They were stuck with him, like it or not.

“And here I thought that was you, _Your Majesty_.”

Reggie merely chuckled, the little shit. “Ah, but I have a code.”

Well, it was true that this particular Scientia was a bit more ruthless than Reggie had ever been as a King, but. “Tellus has a code.”

“Oh, yes, absolutely.” That was a shit-eating grin if he’d ever seen one. “Whatever it takes.” Clarus sighed. Very helpful. “You insulted his kid, Clar.”

Well. That was a fair point, from a certain perspective . . . But he really hadn’t meant it as an insult. Ignis was a fine young man. Anyone would be honored to have him as a son in law. It just. Wasn’t appropriate for him to be _his_ son in law.

Sure. Maybe just stating it was unacceptable like that had been badly put. It had certainly lacked context. But did it really warrant such animosity? He hadn’t even really been given a chance to explain himself. Was their friendship really worth all that?

Well, it was a conundrum. Like it or not, Gladio was an Amicitia, and as such, he had responsibilities. He’d surely given his friend the wrong idea, but they would just have to live with that. And he’d just have to find a way to set the record straight and make it up to him. Later. There were more urgent concerns at hand.

But he’d sit down and have a talk with Tellus soon, he decided, snagging another muffin from the basket and taking a big bite. It was the thing to do.

Gods damn, the future Mr. Scientia made the best muffins. Baked goods were so important. How was it that everything Ventus made was so ridiculously good? Didn’t he ever have any failures?

If he did, Clarus suspected he’d never find out.

“What?” He would really appreciate it if his monarch would stop looking at him like that. After all, it was probably treason if he gave the king a noogie, not that it had ever stopped him from giving his prince one. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Mark my words, Clar.” The man’s tone was mild, but mild Regis was never _really_ as mild as he sounded. “You’ll regret it soon enough if you don’t.”

As it turned out, Regis Lucis Caelum was absolutely right on occasion. Clarus had regrets. He had so much regret. Clarus had never realized how much the advisor had done to make his life easier until it had suddenly stopped. Thanks to Tellus no longer smoothing the process, more than half his paperwork was taking twice as long, and he was getting more resistance from the other gears in the ol' machine than he had in years, if not decades. Never mind that it was Monday morning and most everyone felt a little resistance to working. This was not Monday morning blues. This felt like deliberate interference. Or rather, he supposed, a deliberate lack of . . .

To make matters worse, Tellus himself was avoiding every opportunity Clarus might have normally had for a private conversation. The man was cool, professional as always, but he knew. Tellus Scientia was not a man that emoted dramatically, but he’d always made it clear enough when he was displeased with something, and right now, he was displeased with him. And judging by the looks he was getting whenever someone thought he wasn’t looking, he wasn’t the only one who knew it.

And now this. _This._ All he’d wanted was a pastry. Maybe a. What did you call them? The little flat croissant things with the cream and the fruit. There were these lemon ones they usually still had this time of day. One of those would be glorious, after the day he’d had. Not as good as if Ventus himself had made them, but they were his recipe and the closest he was going to get without intervention from the pastry king himself.

But he hadn’t even reached the front of the line when one of the employees (Baristas? Servers? Gods, they all looked like kids to him) approached him, tense and soft-spoken and unfailingly polite.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“What?” Why in the. What?

“I’m sorry. You’re on the list.”

On the _what_? Was this real life? Why did a bakery (Café? Bistro? Hell, they were all basically the same) have a list, and what in the astrals name for? Whatever the reason, it was clear that being on the list mean exclusion from services, and who the hell did they think they were? Godsdamnit, if he could just have a damn conversation with the man. Just because Tellus was mad at him didn’t mean Ventus had to go taking his side and putting him on any damn list. This was blatant abuse of power. And _unfair_!

And damned if he was going down easy.

And yet. And yet. It surely wasn’t this young lady’s fault. It was clear they knew exactly who he was. Not just his name, but _who he was_. The poor girl looked so anxious, like she knew this was going to blow up in her face, and she was just waiting for the inevitable. And Clarus . . . he just wasn’t that guy. He sighed and gave a tight nod.

“Very well.” There was nothing he could do about this now. He would just have to settle with sub-par goods elsewhere, and try again tomorrow. Because trying to call the advisor now, assuming he’d even answer, would hardly endear him towards forgiveness. He’d just assume he was doing it to get what he wanted. Because that was exactly how it would sound. Like he was only apologizing to restore his access to pastries.

Astrals, what a day.

Well, on with it, then. It was going to be a late night, possibly one that even ended with him staying overnight at the citadel, so he needed to stop by the manor to pick up a few things. He could swing by a LeviaFins for some coffee and a couple pieces of lemon pound cake. Ugh, but they always put way too much icing on those. It would still be good, but. It wasn’t the pastries he was craving, that was for sure.

Clarus parked his car and let himself into the manor, not quite making it to his office away from the office before spotting his son on his way out, gym bag slung over one shoulder. He supposed there was no time like the present. Better to get it over with than to put it off.

“Gladio.” He waited for his son’s attention before nodding to his office. “A minute of your time, before you leave.”

Not waiting to see if Gladio would follow, he stepped inside his office and moved to sit down. Astrals, he wanted a drink. But day drinking was not recommended when one had driving in one’s immediate future, not to mention the meetings that were yet to come. Within moments, his son joined him, pulling up a seat and perching carefully in it, on edge in a way that he hadn’t be in . . . years, probably. Where had the time gone? How had he let so much time pass without . . . something. Something was missing here. Had been missing, for some time. And now it had to be this.

“This infatuation with Scientia and the Argentum boy has to stop.”

Gladio straightened in his seat, chin lifting and arms crossing over his broad chest, immediately defiant. On the defense. Of course, he was. Nobody wanted to have this conversation. But here they were, and it had to be done.

“They have the luxury to have what flings they wish, but you do not.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, perhaps. One was the prince’s future hand and the other soon to be a member of His Highness’ crownsguard. Enough scandal would be disastrous in either case. But simply dating another man, particularly an honorable one, wasn’t enough to ruin them. That bridge had already been crossed.

“You have a duty and a responsibility.” It broke his heart to be the one giving this lecture. Gods knew he’d hated his own father when he’d gotten it, all those years ago. “And you cannot shrug that off on your sister because you saw a pretty boy once.” Deep breath. “Furthermore, it is the height of irresponsibility to involve yourself such in someone you will be interacting with in a professional capacity for the rest of your life.” Surely he could at least see that. However poorly this ended, that was something that would affect everything going forward. Better to put a stop to it now. It would only be harder later. “How, precisely, do you expect this is going to go after it’s over? There are those who will quite literally hold this over you for the rest of your life.” Well, maybe not the rest of his life. They’d mostly stopped giving him a hard time after Councilman Avitus had died. Regardless, the nobility had a long memory, and the whole lot of them were like piranhas, really. Absolutely ruthless at even the slightest ripple in the water.

“Are you done?” His son’s tone was confrontational, to say the least. He expected nothing less. “I’m not breaking up with Iggy and Prompto just because my dad’s a fucking bigot.”

Clarus just sighed. That wasn’t the problem here. And literally no one was understanding that. It was beyond frustrating.

“Like it or not, Gladiolus, perception does matter.” More than it should, perhaps, but that was the reality of their position, and it was something, as the shield to the future king, he would have to come to accept. And that wasn’t even getting into the issue of an heir. Everything was easier with blood.

“Bullshit. It didn’t matter when it was mom.” Stubborn child. “Why is this any different?”

“Because I loved her.” The statement was half said on another, more exasperated, sigh, and he immediately regretted it at the look on Gladio’s face. And then he was gone, storming from the room in a fit of anger that was just . . . Well, it was clear he got the family temper.

Astrals, he shouldn’t have said that aloud. Of course, the boy thought he was in love. But in time, things would change. He had no doubt of that. In the meantime . . .

In the meantime, he supposed he’d just have to ride this out. In the long run, surely Gladio would see he was right and that he only had his best interests at heart. And then he’d find a nice girl and settle down. Eventually. Just as he had. And he’d know things had worked out for the best.

He sighed again, turned his attention to gathering a few things in preparation of over nighting at the citadel. He had a go bag mostly packed already. It wasn’t, after all, the first time this had happened, and it was unlikely to be the last anytime soon, considering the season.

He spotted Iris on his way back out, heading up to her bedroom even as he was heading for the front door.

“Oh.” She looked so like her mother. “Iris. I didn’t know you were home.” Was it that late, already? He regretted that he didn’t have more time to spend with his kids, and Iris especially seemed to be growing so fast these days. “I’ll be late at the citadel tonight, but if you want to do something tomorrow, I should be able to.” He missed spending time with his kids. Was acutely aware, all of a sudden, how much he’d missed. Where had the years gone? “Maybe we could see a movie?”

“_Really_, Daddy?” Gods, she sounded like her mother, too. That tone was all Eyla. He could see her in his mind’s eye so clearly, hands on her hips, frowning at him in blatant disapproval. Astrals. And before he could rub his wits together long enough to produce a single functioning braincell, his daughter was gone, too. Not storming away like her brother, but with the finality for her door clicking closed and the image of her frowning disapproval fresh in his mind . . . it felt just as loud.

Everything was such a sixdamn mess. And all he could do was try to claw his way out of it, starting with the mountain of paperwork on his desk, which was probably going to take half the night to get through. Then Regis had that early meeting with the younger Scientia, followed with another meeting with that detestable little cretin from the payroll division. And then. After that.

Well, if he couldn’t spend time with his daughter, maybe he could catch up on some sleep. Gods know he didn’t get much that night, and what little he did was face down on his desk. At least he didn’t drool or anything of the sort. That would be embarrassing, even if no one but him noticed. Even if, furthermore, he didn’t owe anyone an explanation for such things. He would know. That was enough.

That and clearly someone had come into his office while he was sleeping. It was surprising he hadn't woken, but it was undeniable that there was something in his inbox that were not there the night before. Specifically, one very fat envelope, precisely sealed with “CONFIDENTIAL” stamped across it. Whomever had left it there must have been very light footed.

Either that, or he was sleeping a lot deeper than he was willing to admit. The last few days had been. Rough.

Clarus straightened in his seat, rubbed at his eyes for a moment before reaching for his coffee. Cold, but coffee was coffee, he supposed. Pulling the envelope over to him, he thunked it down in front of him, taking a long drink from his mug and grimacing before breaking the seal. The packet was practically thick enough to be a book, and he could only sigh as he pulled it free and dropped it heavily on the empty envelope.

“A History of Surrogacy Among Lucian Nobility,” he murmured, as though reading it aloud would make it easier to parse. “A Layman’s Perspective.” And no author taking the credit, of course. Right. Because it wasn’t blatantly obvious who might have put such a thing together, though he struggled to imagine how either Scientia might find the time for such a thing.

He flipped the top page open, briefly scanned the table of contents, casually flipped through the pages with his thumb. Gods. This was. No. He was too tired for this right now. Shoving it back into the envelope, he left it face down on his desk, throwing back the dregs of his coffee before rising to his feet. He was. Not up for this yet, and furthermore, he had somewhere to be. This could wait. Until later.

Later being after brunch. A quick change of clothes and trip to the washroom later, he was ready to join his monarch for the brunch they had scheduled in an otherwise – rare – light morning. He managed to rush enough to arrive before their guest. Ideal, really. How embarrassing would it be for the King’s own shield to arrive late, particularly given the current, somewhat sensitive situation that no one would in any way mention (but would be hanging over them, regardless).

The Scientia boy arrived only minutes after him, and gods, Reggie was going to such a pain in the ass later about how close he cut it. When he didn’t have his King face on, it was all too easy to see where that kid of his got his sass from. Granted, his mom had been no wilting flower, either, but that obnoxious little smirk they both got . . . it was fucking hereditary.

There was one good thing about Ignis Scientia’s weekly visit. Not that the boy himself’s presence was unwanted, even with the current awkwardness. He _was_ a fine young man, thoughtful and intelligent with a great dry wit that that oft caught him by surprise. He would make a fine advisor the future king, though hopefully not too soon. But that aside, there was something else really wonderful about his visit.

Muffins. Or sometimes pastries, but usually muffins. And gods only knew what the boy’s uncle put in them that made them so good. Would a man drug the king? Or was Ventus _just that good_?

He waited patiently (or at least he thought patiently) as the boy arrived, bowing and exchanging greetings with perfect calm, poised and tidy despite, well, everything. Gods, he hoped it was Tellus that had written that book on his desk. The kid looked way too tired for it to still be this far from the end of the year. Though he’d often thought that of the boy, over the years, so maybe he was just going through another ones of those phases of his.

They settled in, smiling and thanking by name the servant that brought their morning coffee (or in Reggie’s case, tea). By the time they were alone again, Clarus felt fit to burst. Regis was definitely doing this on purpose. He definitely knew. And he was the one, after all, with access to Ventus’ little corner of the armiger. But instead of pulling out the delicious baked goods, he was speaking softly to the Scientia boy, face full of fatherly affection. He was like that with any of their kids, really. The whole lot of them had grown up together and might as well all be family.

Some closer family than others. Apparently.

Finally - _finally_! – Reggie pulled a basket from the armiger with the slightest of smirks, setting it lightly on the table in front of them as they chatted – something about how Noctis still hadn’t settled on a charity project for the season. The boy was really cutting it close, but that was business as usual, with this kind of thing. Reggie himself had been nearly as bad, back in the day.

Thoughts like that made him feel so sixdamn old.

Clarus swooped in to open the basket the moment Reggie pulled his hands away, outright grinning at the sight of the perfectly baked muffins within. Ignoring the uneasy feeling nudging at the back of his consciousness – just because Tellus was mad at him didn’t mean _Ventus_ was going to deprive His Majesty of delicious baked goods, after all – he snatched up a muffin, taking a large bite.

_Delicious._ Sweet but a little tart and also a bit nutty. The texture on these were just perfect, moist but fluffy. Had he been holding out on them? Clarus thought he’d already tried all of Ventus’ go-to muffins, but this was definitely not one he’d had before. Was it new? Kinda reminded him of . . .

“Ah, shit.” The words came out with a slight slur, his tongue feeling thick and uncoordinated. _Strawberries._ And he was already beginning to feel it. His hands felt hot and thick as he patted lightly at his chest, and his next breath came out in a wheeze. He knew he had an epi-pen in the armiger. Just _where the fuck_ was it?

He needed to sit down. He had a brief glimpse of his friend’s horrified expression, heard the dulcet tones of the one calm person left in the room. The room seemed to tunnel as he hit the floor, the sensation of his knees hitting the marble tiles sharp against his fumbling consciousness.

And then, after some undeterminable length of time, a sharp pinprick of pain, and the tightness in his chest loosened. A moment more, and he became aware that he was on the floor, a hand on his arm and two sets of green eyes fixed on him in concern. Ignis gave a small nod and turned away, speaking softly into his phone.

Gods, everything _itched._

“Stop that.” The hand on his arm lifted to swat him away as he reached to scratch. “Just rest a moment, old friend.”

Rest. That was a good idea. Though the _old_ part was just. That was just low.

“Dr. Valetudo has been advised of the situation,” Ignis stated coolly, tucking his phone in his pocket as he came to kneel in front of him. “And will meet us at the infirmary.” While the previous statement was directed at the king, the next was clearly for him. “Lord Amicitia. Can you stand?”

Lord Amicitia. Even now, he made it an insult. Scientias were so ruthless.

The walk to the infirmary was one slowly taken with Clarus not entirely steady on his feet and a couple of glaive following at a respectable distance like bewildered ducklings. The good doctor insisted he stay at least overnight, and being a reasonable precaution, it wasn’t really a command he had any ground to argue with. And even if it did, it wouldn’t matter. When it came to matters of health, Valetudo technically had authority over everyone short of the king himself.

So that just left time for the boredom to set in. He napped for a while, and then Cor came by with some busy work to distract him. He hoisted the tote bag containing said work onto the bed next to him, smirking ever so slightly, and when Clarus saw the image on the bag, he understood why. It had to be custom screen printed. And gods, he didn’t know if it was glorious or just awful, but it was definitely something he shouldn’t carry around town. It would definitely give the wrong impression for the head of the crownsguard and king’s shield to be photographed with a bag portraying unidentified glaives battling with a big, fluffy, adorable chickatrice. Particularly as they seemed to be badly losing.

Hilarious, though. Perfect for carrying around the citadel. He was definitely bringing it with him next time he had a meeting with Drautos.

And there it was. The first thing he noticed in that damn bag. The Envelope. Well, he was stuck here. He might as well read it now and get it over with.

The absolute first thing he noticed - or noticed again, rather - was the damn thing was color coded. The table of contents had colored bullets next to each topic, which he initially assumed was about aesthetics, but as he flipped through each chapter, it quickly because clear there was more to it than that. Each topic had it’s own color, with key points highlighted further.

It looked like a fucking study guide. A giant-ass study guide for someone’s final exam. All it was missing was incoherent notes in the margin – though maybe that was supposed to be his job. Was this what meeting summaries looked like when they got to the prince? This was definitely the younger Scientia’s work.

Then again. He wouldn’t put it past Tellus to do this in rainbow order, either.

Allowing himself one final sigh, he began to read, mostly just scanning the parts he already knew. Of course, there was precedent for surrogacy. There had been queer monarchs in the past, most famously the Rogue, though she had produced her own children. His own grandfather had used a surrogate after his wife had died – though, again, the child was his by blood. Regardless, he didn’t need a history on surrogacy, and he certainly didn’t need two entire sections on the matter. Nor did he need an analysis of the benefits and drawbacks of the practice, or a timeline on how the public opinion had changed on it over the years. He didn’t need a history of queer rights (both within and out of Insomnia, thanks), or an analysis on how behind the times their fair city was.

But more than anything, most of all, he really, really didn’t need to find out like this. That his own damn son. Had hanahaki.

What.

Seriously, what.

It was . . . too late. It was too late for anything he had to say about it to matter. He’d thought. But this wasn’t the same thing. He hadn’t had all the facts.

He just.

He couldn’t read this anymore. This was just. Too much.

Gods, he was the asshole here. He didn’t have all the facts! But he was such a fucking asshole. And he hated that his own son hadn’t even told him about this. Hadn’t felt like it was something he could come to him with.

Was he really, really surprised, though? Objectively, they’d barely even had a relationship since. Since Eyla died. And that was more his fault than his son’s. He was the adult here, after all. Gods. But what a cold splash of reality this was.

So he did what any reasonable person would do when faced with news too overwhelming to process. He put the bundle of papers back in its envelope, the envelope back in the bag, then he laid back, closed his eyes, and took a nap.

When he woke, afternoon had slid right into evening and his old friend had returned, lounging with some paperwork in his lap in a chair that looked way too comfortable for their surroundings. No doubt some glaive had dragged it in for his royal bosom. Ah, the perks of being royalty.

Reggie looked up, shifting from focused energy to amusement as Clarus gave a long, lazy stretch before propping himself up against a few pillows.

“Have a nice nap?” he asked in that mild way of his, all good humor despite the situation.

And you know what? “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“Iris was by earlier,” he added, gathering up his papers to tuck away and set aside, at least for the moment. “She didn’t stay long.”

Clarus sighed. Of course not. Both of his children were quite vexed with him, to say the least, though it was nice to know she at least cared enough to check in. Still. There wasn’t much to be said about that. What’s done was done. He couldn’t change the past. He could only figure out what to do about it next.

But before he could rub two brain cells together long enough to form a response, there was a light knock at the door, and a lean figure stepped just past the doorway, tucking into a formal bow at the sight of the king.

“Apologies if I’m interrupting.”

But Reggie just waved off the comment with a small gesture, waiting patiently as the boy straightened, then stepped further within.

“I apologize if it is presumptuous of me.” Ignis reached into his satchel to pull out a small, white paper bag. “When I visited the pharmacy to replenish my supply, I took the initiative to procure an additional dosage of epinephrine.”

He offered out the bag, and after a moment, Clarus reached out to take it, strangely overcome at the gesture. He . . understood that his own epi-pen was lost to the depths of the king’s armiger, and he’d gotten quite the lecture about it. It had been explained to him that had young Scientia not been there, or had he not been the over prepared creature that he was, an alternative may not have been available. That would have been a hell of a way to go down in the history books. The shield of the 113th king, asphyxiated on the floor of the king’s parlor because he was too stupid to really pay attention before he stuffed delicious baked goods down his gullet. Majestic.

But this additional gesture. He was just. Entirely overcome.

“Thank you.” The king finally spoke for him, smiling warmly. “That’s very kind of you.”

The boy gave a small nod, bowed again before turning away, only pausing when Clarus finally managed to speak up.

“Ignis?”

“Sir?” The boy’s tone was polite. Professional. Astrals, the boy looked tired. What burden had it been, to put together such a thoroughly organized and expansive report on such short notice? How much had that contributed to the dark bags beneath his eyes? Clarus felt something between shame and guilt at the thought.

Welp. Time to swallow his pride. “It’s come to my attention that I owe you an apology.”

The boy looked briefly surprised – an expression he might have felt proud of, under different circumstances. He quickly regained his composure, giving a single, solemn nod. “Apology accepted.” Which was rather generous of him, really, not to make him explicitly say it. “Was there anything else?” he asked with a cocked brow, and gods, he looked so like his uncle, if infinitely more forgiving.

“There is one more thing.” He paused, uncertain how exactly to proceed. “Regarding your uncle.” He’d disagreed with the man in the past, of course, but not like this. He would like to make amends, of course. Not just because, as it turned out, that how he’d handled the situation was completely wrong, and not just because Tellus could make his life a pain in the ass in a dozen tiny ways.

Because they were friends. Or they had been. And that mattered.

“Ah.” After a moment, the boy got it without him having to spit it out. Sharp one, that. “You’re looking for advice.”

Clarus nodded. He had hit the nail on the head exactly.

The boy looked briefly thoughtful as he seriously considered the issue. Clarus held himself carefully still, trying to, at least, be patient while he awaited an answer.

“The best advice I can give you . . .” Ignis said finally. Clarus leaned forward, eager for the insight. “. . . is to perhaps accept that sometimes things just break.”

What? That was it? That was all? Like, he got that there was no magic fix for this, but that was really _really_ it? Did that mean there was no way forward at all? Nothing he could do to improve things?

“So there’s no point in even apologizing.” Because what difference did it make if Tellus wasn’t going to make his peace with him no matter what?

“I wouldn’t say that,” he added mildly, and if Clarus wasn’t mistaken, that was actual amusement in his voice. Amusement! “If there’s nothing else?” The boy waited a moment for Clarus to respond, then turned to the king himself for confirmation.

“Thank you, Ignis,” Regis said kindly, and with another low bow, Ignis ducked from the room. “Cheer up, old friend,” he added, giving him a somewhat condescending pat on the shoulder. “They’ll let you out in the morning. Plenty of time yet to eat your foot.”

And let him out they did. By morning, they were ready to send him on his way with only a brief lecture about taking it easy. Right. Like he was going to take another day off and endure a second round of pointed comments about his age – if Cor kept it up, he wasn’t going to be immortal much longer.

Besides. It was hardly strenuous work trying not to fall asleep while Councilor Operosus droned on (and on and on) about whatever minute detail he’d latched onto this time to make himself feel important. It was odious to an extreme, certainly, but strenuous? Hardly.

Clarus was more than ready for a break by the time Regis called an end to the councilor's most recent tear – about the theme of this year’s events, of all things . . . gods. No matter the event or the season, this asshole just wouldn’t shut up about working the night sky into the theme somehow. As though they _all_ weren’t sick of that by the time the prince had hit his teenage years, if not sooner.

He just managed not to roll his eyes as the man turned away, not even bothering to hide the muttering under his breath as he headed for the door. It was amazing – in a sort of horrifying, car wreck kind of way – that he was still a serving council member. He’d been old even when Clarus was young, he was sure of it. Not that he wished ill upon the man (or that he would admit it if he did), but was he seriously planning to live forever?

His attention was drawn away from that old fart quick enough, though, by the expression on his old friend’s face – not kingly, or carefully reserved, but open and concerned. He followed his gaze to see the younger Scientia, presumably having just risen to his feet, pale as milk, staring into the distance, one palm pressed carefully against the table in front of him. He moved in tandem with his liege towards the boy, anticipating his old friend’s immediate shift towards Dad Mode. After all, the man acted as though he had a whole brood of children, rather than just the one.

Not that Clarus was _really_ complaining. The support had always been appreciated in the wake of Eyla’s death.

Clarus registered the king’s tone, gentle and distressed, more than the softly spoken inquiry he directed at the young chamberlain. Ignis immediately straightened, swaying slightly at the sudden movement, and Clarus automatically brought a hand to his shoulder to help steady him. He took only a moment to rally himself before taking a deep breath and opening his mouth to speak.

But the breath came out more like a wheeze, and the sound that followed, soft as it was, was possibly one of the most disturbing noises he’d ever heard. Like paper mâché tearing, but _wet_. And then a cough tore out of the boy, blood splattering across the king’s regalia before he managed to get his mouth covered. Clarus felt more than saw the king flinch, his full focus on the boy’s terrified expression. There was something haunting and surreal about it, not just the graveness of the situation, but that open horror, the stark honesty, in this setting.

And then Ignis blinked once, twice, and went down, graceless and without form. Just going as gravity took him. And Clarus only just managed to get his arms around him in time to keep his head from bouncing off the floor. He heard someone – more than one someone – cry out, but didn’t dare look up to see the nearby prince and his shield, or – gods, Tellus, where he usually sat across the room . . .

He shifted the boy’s weight, pressing a hand lightly to his chest. Still breathing. Slow and ragged and gods that was so much blood. But still breathing, and gods willing, Dr. Valetudo would be able to help. Would be able to figure out what was wrong in time.

This was not the time to panic. Ignis was still alive, yet. Now all they had to do was keep him that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [](https://imgflip.com/i/4g5j30)   



	17. Noctis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my name is Charmkeeper, and this chapter hovers somewhere about 12K in words. I'm getting ever closer to my threat of 20K.
> 
> Also, I have an October/Halloween fic going right now, if anyone wants to [take a look](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26597110/chapters/64847908)! <3333

Noctis had no idea how he was going to get through December if this was November.

December marked not only the beginning of the holiday season but the gala season as well. He'd mostly been able to avoid it as a prince, but he knew that now that he was out of high school, he would be expected to attend those . . . things. They were really just an excuse for the rich to show off how rich they were and for the influential to harass even more influential people into doing what they wanted. Really, Noctis wanted no part of it. He was already busy. He didn't have the time to listen to people whine about not having even more money. Not when he had been in a tiny house not even two weeks ago. Not when he'd slept on a couch that no one should have to own when he knew what sorts of things were available.

Prompto's family wasn't even considered poor. He knew that, but just the difference between his own apartment and Prompto's parent's _house_ made his head spin. It only added to the already ever growing list of things Noctis wanted to change. Noctis didn't have time for people who had already had shit talk to him about wanting more shit. It didn't matter that these things were held at night, after work. He could be spending that time asleep. He could be spending that time with his friends.

It wasn't like his friends weren't having a rough time, too. Gladio was having to navigate a shift in relationship with his father after the disaster that had been that first date. Everyone had known about their polyamorous relationship after that first date. Everyone. Before that, most Citadel people hadn't truly even been fully aware that Ignis had been dating Prompto or who Prompto was. Ignis would have liked it that way, not out of secrecy, but out of just privacy. Noctis could understand that. There would be no privacy about it now, and from what Noctis could tell, Clarus had taken it about as well as cats took to being thrown in a pool.

Ignis was just tired. Noctis was convinced his insomnia had risen its ugly head once again. There was a question. How much money did he have to invest in science for insomnia to be a curable thing? How much money would have to go into that before the City of Insomnia could be renamed the City of Slept Through the Night? Noctis was willing to invest that much money in it every time he'd seen Ignis' face for the last couple of weeks.

Not that there was anything he could do. Even if Prompto didn't keep telling him that Ignis was sleeping early and well, there wasn't really anything he could do. All he could do was wait for it to pass.

And then there was Prompto himself. Gods above, what hadn't happened to Prompto in the last couple of weeks? After that first disaster of a date (don't get him started on the dates. Noctis would think about them until he died), he'd decided to join the crownsguard. Noctis still didn't like that. He wasn't sure he ever would, not fully. Prompto was supposed to be safe. Normal. Untied. He thought he understood a bit better now, though. At least there was that. He could understand the allure. It was something else to fix in the future.

It didn't stop there, though! He'd decided to join the crownsguard and then gets arrested when he goes to complete the signup! Arrested! For existing! Because that was all it was. He was arrested for how he was born. It was disgusting and wrong, and Noctis hated it. Who cared how he came to be?! He was amazing. All the things that he was not. Prompto was bright and cheerful. He was smart and clever. He was loving and loyal. Who wouldn't look at that and think it was great? How could anyone think that he was an abomination?

Noctis couldn't even comprehend it.

Now Prompto was in training, and Noctis was sure that was hard. It hadn't been easy for him, either, when he'd started, but that had also been nearly a decade ago now. Prompto was just starting, and Noctis could tell the rest of his cadet group was from houses of influence. He'd only gotten the one look, but he could tell. They weren't starting from scratch like Prompto was. He was sure he could feel that gap.

All of his friends were going through the ringer. He could help none of them.

The only good thing was that they seemed to be happy together. Noctis hoped that wasn't because of the newness of it. He hoped it would last. He wasn't good at emotions. He wasn't sure he could play the part of the glue if they fell apart.

All this shit, and all this worry, and these events were just November.

Fucking shit, what was he going to do if this all carried over into December?

The idea was terrifying enough to him that he'd screamed into a pillow before he'd fallen asleep last Wednesday, and it wasn't like he didn't know. He knew. He knew this was just the rest of his life. At it's best, probably.

All he could do was try to anticipate things one problem at a time. It wasn't exactly easy. Noctis wasn't great at predicting things. He definitely hadn't predicted the whole Hanahaki thing any of the three times it had happened to his friends now. He hadn't thought that anything could go wrong at the Horror House once it had been vetted, and he had all but broken down over his friends' first date. No, he wasn't great at predicting the things that would go wrong, and he wasn't really that great at dealing with them either.

There was just one thing, though, that Noctis could predict and could try to intercept. That thing was Prompto and the galas. Even if Noctis had been going to the galas last year, Prompto hadn't had high enough clearance or standing to go. Noctis could have worked something out, sure. He probably would have tried to work something out this year if it hadn't naturally unfolded, anyway, but the fact remained that there was a problem this year that hadn't been a problem last year. Just as Prompto was starting from scratch at crownsguard training, he'd be starting from scratch at life in high society.

No one had talked much about their second date, but from the bits and pieces he'd gotten out of each of them, it had highlighted this exact problem. Frankly, Prompto didn't know shit, and of course he didn't. Why would he?

If he was going to attend any of these galas and make Ignis the happiest man on all of Eos by dancing with him, he would have to learn.

Mentally, Noctis had tried to work himself up to asking Prompto if he could teach him. With him would be the easiest way to learn. He knew all the little tricks to remembering and wasn't going to be judgey about him not knowing or harsh if he didn't get it right away. Noctis was even pretty sure he could make it fun somehow. Well. Maybe not the dancing part, but the talking part and the eating part! He could definitely make those fun and not get upset when Prompto stepped on his toes. Easy.

If only he could bring himself to ask.

He'd tried the last few times they'd been alone together, but he always got sidetracked or lost his nerve. He didn't want Prompto to think that he wanted him to change! Or to think that he didn't like him as he was! It wasn't that at all, but Noctis also knew that Prompto might take it that way. It was getting to the point where if he didn't ask soon, someone else was going to or it would be too late. It was starting to look like he was going to have to ask over text as it was. Maybe that _would_ be easier. For both of them. He had to work himself up to that, too.

Maybe he would later. Not now, though. Now he was stuck in a meeting. They all were. Surely, no one actually wanted to be in this meeting. He swore they'd already gone over all of this last week. Budgets and cuts, end of the year work loads, charitable causes. One of those things Noctis knew most of them didn't even really care about, but they were getting into the time of year where people needed to look good.

At one point this year's Crystallo Nox ball theme had been brought up. That had been about the time that Noctis had stopped paying strict attention. He didn't have enough food in his stomach to deal with this bullshit. How long had they been sitting here? Four hours? Ignis would probably later tell him it had only been one hour, but gods damned it felt like four hours. Four hours he could have spent doing something - _anything_ \- else. Wasn't anyone else wanting to eat lunch? Didn't anyone else want to stretch their legs?

Noctis had found the ultimate form of torture, and sitting here pretending this wasn't torture was it.

When someone finally called them to stop for the day, Noctis could have cried. He was getting up from this chair, dragging Gladio and Ignis off to eat something and actually relax. Maybe it would be late enough that Prompto would be just getting out of training, too. Maybe they could all go and fucking relax for an hour. They all clearly needed it. Ignis was looking even more tired than he normally was right now, and even Gladio looked ready to fall asleep or punch something. It was time for a break.

It looked like Gladio was in agreement, because he was up on his feet even before Noctis was and was already making his way over to Noctis. Great. Noctis slid his eyes over to Ignis, hoping to convey with just his eyes that he wanted him to come over to them. He had perfect timing to see the next event unfold in its entirety. Ignis was getting to his feet, eyes heavy and tired and _gods_ why couldn't he just sleep for five days and come back? Even standing seemed to be a struggle at this point. That was it. Noctis was going to put him on sick leave. He was going to rest for a couple days. Get better.

That was what Noctis was thinking about when it got worse. He paled. Ignis was a pale man. He didn't really get a lot of sunlight in his diet, and when he stood between Prompto and Gladio the difference was striking. Yet he was not normally the shade of freshly fallen snow. No one could miss that. No one did. The whole room, which had been buzzing with light chatter, fell quiet.

Noctis felt his arms push against the table to stand more than he consciously went to stand up. However, his father was closer, and Noctis paused when he approached. Ignis didn't like to be crowded and already he had his father at his front and Clarus on his other side. His father was smart and good. Maybe his father would send Ignis home. Maybe Ignis would actually listen to his father when he said he needed a few days off to rest. Right?

. . . right?

Even in the quiet room, Noctis only knew that his father was talking because his lips moved. He didn't need to hear it, though. He could hear it in his brain. His father would be asking if Ignis was all right. When Ignis responded, it would be followed up by asking if he needed anything. The sending home would be later when they weren't surrounded by the entire council. His father was good at things like that in a way that Noctis very much wasn't and never would be. Ignis would have no choice but to listen, and while Ignis would complain about it in his own way, Noctis didn't doubt that Prompto would enjoy taking care of him while he rested. Gladio would probably get in on it too. Noctis would . . . let them. He would join them if he had any idea at all of how to care for someone.

He was deep in the land of trying to figure out even something small he could do to help - it would probably entail just doing his best to pick up the slack while he was gone so there was less stress on him when he returned - when Ignis opened his mouth to reply to his father's question. He opened his mouth, but he never got to actually talking. Instead Ignis coughed. His hands flew to his mouth as he did so, but his fingers could not contain what came out. What came out leaked out of his grasp and splattered all over the front of his father's clothes.

Blood. There was no other thing it could be. Bright blood. Noctis saw it, and he felt all his own blood drain from him. He felt himself go cold. He must have wobbled, because a hand - Gladio's hand - pushed him back down in his seat. Ignis. Ignis! He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry out to him. All breath died in his throat. Nothing would pass.

He felt like he was someone else inside his body watching a movie through his eyes. It wasn't him. This wasn't now. He couldn't even imagine how Ignis must have felt as the coughing stopped and he saw the blood himself. The horror in his eyes. This was the first time. Noctis didn't doubt it at all. This was new. Why else would his eyes look like that?

There was a moment in time that would be forever burned into Noctis' eyes where Ignis just stared in sheer terror, hands trembling, and then his face went blank. His eyes stopped seeing anything at all, and Ignis simply . . . fell into himself. It reminded Noctis of watching a blanket fall to the ground. He just folded in however gravity wanted. He wasn't there anymore to control it. He was unconscious. Maybe he was dead.

"Ignis!" He heard his father cry, even as Clarus caught him before he fully clattered to the ground. Ignis was bigger than Noctis in every way. Taller, wider, presence in a room, but in Clarus' arms he looked so small.

"He's breathing," Gladio said into his ear as Clarus ran out of the council chambers followed by his father. It relieved just enough tension for Noctis to let out a noise he could only call distress.

And then the rest of the council burst into motion. Noctis didn't pay much attention to it. People left, people talked, people paced. Noctis sat. He felt like he couldn't feel his legs. He would know. There had been a time, after all, where he really hadn't been able to feel his legs, his feet, his toes. That time was long passed, thanks to Luna, but he would never forget the feeling. It would always be with him, just out of sight, easily accessed.

"Can you walk?" Gladio asked.

"I don't know," Noctis answered honestly.

"Can you try?" Gladio was pushing, but his voice was far from demanding. They needed to get out of here. Noctis got that. He wasn't being a brat. Not this time . . . he never really meant to be at all. "I don't think I can get away with carrying you." The words were somewhere between serious and a tease. Noctis appreciated the effort Gladio was giving. After all, it had been his own boyfriend who had just all but vomited blood up.

Gladio's boyfriend. Noctis' oldest friend, practically his own brother. Prompto --

Prompto.

"Give me a second."

He did not make it first try. His legs gave out, and he sat back in his chair with a growl of frustration. "Noct."

"Give me a second!" He knew Gladio was going to tell him to calm down. How could he? How could he calm down about anything right now?! After a moment, he put his hands back down on the table and pushed. His legs held his weight, but he shook. After his first step, Gladio held out a hand, palm up. Noctis took it.

"Let's go down to the truck."

"No, not yet." Noctis took in a deep breath. "Prompto. We gotta go get Prompto first." Gladio didn't respond, but the moment they were out of the council chambers, he took the hallway that led more directly to the training grounds than the garage. Noctis fished his phone out of his pocket. With his single free and shaking hand, it was a miracle that he managed to unlock it and get to Prompto's number. Would he even hear it? Were they allowed their phones in the hall? All he knew was that Prompto had said he didn't check it. But if he was hearing his ringtone, hopefully he'd know it was important?

It was five rings before someone picked up on the other end. _"Noct? What's up?"_ The confusion in his voice was clear, tinted with just a bit of worry bleeding through. Yeah, he definitely knew that Noctis would know he was in training right now. That combined with the fact that he wasn't big on calling anyway . . .

"Let me talk to your trainer."

_"Okay?"_ The worry was more clear, but he had to get his trainer to let him go first.

Gladio's hand squeezed his. The shaking wasn't going down. He still couldn't really feel his legs.

After a few seconds and some muffled talking, a voice he didn't really recognize came on. _"Yes, your Highness?"_

"There has been an incident regarding Ignis Scientia, and I need you to release Prompto Argentum early. He won't be back today."

Noctis could practically feel the trainer restraining himself from asking what had happened. Noctis also knew the trainer knew better. _"All right,"_ the trainer said after a few agonizing moments. _"Hold on. Argentum!"_ The trainer called out as though Prompto would have wandered more than a few feet away. A hand must have been put over the speaker at that point, because their voices returned to muffles for a few moments before he heard the shuffle of a phone being passed over.

_"What's going on, Noct?!"_

"Go get changed. Gladio and I are coming to get you. We're going to the hospital. It's . . . something's wrong with Specs."

_"That. What. What happened?"_

"I'll tell you when we get there." Saying it to Prompto's face would be worse, but Noctis wasn't sure he could get it out over the phone.

It wasn't all that much longer before they made it down to the training area, but they didn't find Prompto by the locker rooms. They found him in the training hall, in his normal clothes, watching the other cadets continuing the day's training. He was gnawing on his lip and bouncing his leg so hard that Noctis was almost afraid it would vibrate right off his hip. Not that he could blame Prompto. Prompto could barely keep himself still when he _wasn't_ worrying intensely about something.

When he saw them, Prompto all but levitated up out of his seat and joined them. "Noct. Please. What's happened?"

"We were just getting out of a meeting and . . . Ignis. Coughed."

"Oh." There was some sort of defeat in his voice, like he knew about that, but that couldn't be right, because Prompto would not just let his boyfriend cough up blood and let it be. No. He wouldn't.

"When he coughed blood came up. Like. A lot of it, Prom. A lot of blood. It got all over my dad."

"What?"

"And then he collapsed."

"Ohmigods." No. Definitely not. Prompto hadn't seen Ignis coughing up blood. There was no way that instant wave of panic that overtook his features immediately was anything but genuine horror. "Is. Is?!"

"He was alive," Gladio put in, "last we saw him. Come on, Prom. Keep it together. I can't get away with carrying you, either."

The ride to the hospital was miserable. No one talked. They all just stewed in their worry and misery. Getting there wasn't much better. Noctis was not fond of hospitals, he couldn't imagine how anyone could be. Everything was chaos that they tried to make seem normal. Like, as they walked, no one was running around them in circles, but he could hear the urgency of hushed voices and the hum of too many machines. The smell of bleach that didn't quite cover up sickness was overwhelming.

It didn't really amount to anything, anyway. They weren't allowed to see him. They did that thing where they waited in the waiting room, and Noctis paced furiously. "Come on, Noct. You're making me more nervous."

He sat, but only because the last person who needed to be more nervous was Prompto.

After what felt like another thousand hours, the swinging doors opened to reveal his father and Clarus. Noctis sprung to his feet with absolutely zero hesitation. "Is he--?!"

His father held up a hand, silencing any further words that wanted to spill out. "He's stabilized. We're going to transfer him back to the Citadel. You can meet us there and see him, but . . . he's not awake."

Awake or not didn't matter. He was alive. That was currently all that mattered. He was alive, and he wasn't going to die immediately.

Despite the good news, the drive back to the Citadel was just as quiet as the drive out. In fact, the first attempt at conversation any of them made was Prompto, back at the Citadel as they headed up to the Care Rooms. "I've never been in this part before." It was a whisper, just barely heard, but Noctis was happy for the distraction, however brief.

"There's usually not anyone up here, just when someone important is really ill." Usually when they were about to die. His grandfather had died before he'd been born, but Noctis was pretty sure he'd spent his last days up here. They didn't really . . . talk about Mors a lot. Noctis knew enough to know why. The thought made Noctis hope that Ignis would not be in the same bed that his grandfather had died in. Gross.

The room they ended up in was like a hospital room in that it was very clean, and there was a slow but steady beeping from the machinery they kept hooked up to him, but the rest of it looked like a normal bedroom that one might find in the Citadel, except with more chairs to sit in. With Ignis pale and unconscious in the large but not _too_ ornate bed, the rest of them pretty much glued themselves to said chairs in worried silence. Once every hour or so a doctor would come in and fiddle with something or another, but they'd probably taken blood for running a million tests and things at the hospital already. There wasn't much else to do except wait and probably make sure he didn't drown on his own blood for fuck's sake.

No one that came in to the room tried to shoo them off. No one tried to tell him that he was the prince and he had things he needed to be doing. Perhaps no one dared. After a couple of hours, the door creaked open and Ventus slipped in the room. His usually permanent smile was absent from his face, and, really, it made him look like someone else. Not Ventus. Not quite. Of course, Noctis had always had a deep suspicion that Ventus didn't like coming to the Citadel like Gladio's mom hadn't and like Prompto probably didn't. He could probably count the number of times he'd seen Ventus here on one hand.

Of course, he would come for Ignis.

Ventus stopped by Ignis' bed first but then made his rounds with the rest of them. Gladio first, Prompto second, and then Noctis. Noctis couldn't even meet his eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered softly, wanting to curl into himself and just die.

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Unless you want to tell me you're the one who's been poisoning him."

"Poison?!"

"That's what they're saying."

"Why would anyone want to poison Iggy?"

"Why wouldn't they, Prompto? He's young. He's gay and doesn't hide it. He's in a position of high power - certainly enough power to influence the sway of things. To get in the way of things people want, and often does."

"What does young have to do with it?" Prompto pressed.

"He's not in a position to die of old age soon."

Noctis watched his best friend visibly deflate a little. "Ah."

Ventus slunk into a chair with a sigh. He looked as tired as Noctis felt. "Where's Tellus?" Noctis thought it was a reasonable question. If Ventus had actually showed up at the Citadel, where was Tellus?

Ventus gave him the smallest of nods. Noctis took that as acknowledging that it was at least a decent question. "He's off pretending he's one of those detectives in those old noir films. Except he doesn't have the coat or hat for it." It was a small attempt at a joke, and though no one laughed, Noctis felt the air in the room lift a little. That was just what Ventus did. Still, it was also a serious answer. While they all sat here, doing nothing, Tellus was trying to find out who had tried to kill Ignis. Maybe that should have driven Noctis to get up out of his chair, but he didn't.

Tellus did come to visit eventually, along with his Dad and Clarus. It was mostly at meal times. Food was brought, and they would show up, stay for a short amount of time, and then leave again. The rest of them didn't leave the room. They stayed. They even slept in their chairs, which was probably a great bother to Gladio and Prompto. Noctis? He'd slept on worse. Easily. It didn't bother him to sleep in a big comfy chair while his oldest friend lay comatose and possibly dying.

In the morning, they all looked equally drawn out and terrible. After breakfast and a short visit from Tellus, Prompto got up from his chair and started to go toward the door. "Where are you going?" That wasn't the way to the bathroom, and Prompto was not familiar enough with the Citadel to just go anywhere.

"To training, dude."

"No one expects you to be at training, Prom." If no one had come to collect him yet, they definitely weren't coming to make Prompto preform mild torture.

"They're just going to send you back," Gladio chimed in.

"I have to try." His voice was soft and almost gravelly. They didn't try to stop him after that, but Prompto returned all the same about half an hour later, flopping back down in his chair with a sigh. "Cor told me not to come back for a couple days."

"Yeah, because you're going to hurt yourself or someone else being that upset." Gladio reached between them and rubbed his shoulder. The only sign that Prompto noticed it at all was the slightest lean into it.

"Aren't you supposed to be able to fight through that? Isn't that expected?"

"In times of desperation or war. Not in training. Absolutely not in your second week."

There was some expectation of them still functioning, though. Oddly, they came for Gladio first, but Noctis made himself get up, too. If they wanted Gladio to get back into a certain level of work, they'd definitely want him to, too. He could do it. He'd probably be more snappish than usual, but he could. He wanted to go home first, though. He'd lived here most of his childhood, but it wasn't home. It had been once, but he didn't think it ever would be again.

Gladio was willing to take both of them back for a bit, but Prompto wouldn't budge. "Don't you wanna shower? Nap in your own bed."

"It's not my bed," Prompto mumbled through the fingers he'd pressed against his face. "It's Iggy's bed."

Noctis and Gladio shared a look at that, but neither of them tried to argue. Even if he'd really had the energy to argue, those words had punched it all out of him. "Gimme your key," he told Prompto softly. "I'll go check on Ms. Marbles."

"Kay."

Prompto fished them out of his pocket, and Noctis held onto them as though they were precious jewels all the way down to the truck. "Can we go to the pet store?" he asked Gladio once they were inside.

"Do I want to know?"

"It's nothing bad. You'll see." He could feel Gladio's eyes on him, saw the subtle way he leaned back in the cab and looked him over. Then he put the key in the ignition. Noctis thought he shrugged.

"Yeah okay."

They rode in silence for about five minutes before Noctis took a deep breath and asked "How are you feeling?" Asking how he was holding up would be a worthless question. Gladio was trained to hold up well. That was what he did. How he was actually feeling was a whole other thing.

"I feel like shit" came the near immediate reply.

"Oh." Noctis didn't know what other kind of answer he'd been expecting, but the problem now became that he didn't really know how to reply to that. Eventually he said "Thanks for being honest."

"Thanks for asking."

They spent all of about five minutes at the pet store, and Gladio raised his eyebrows at his purchase. "A harness and leash?"

"I wanna bring Ms. Marbles back with me." Gladio made a noise beside him. "Bad idea?"

He looked up just in time to see Gladio shake his head. "No. I think that'll be good. For both of them."

Back in his own apartment, he showered and changed clothes and then packed some other clothes to take with him. If he was going back to work, he'd be wearing a suit, and gods dammit he wasn't going to wear that suit all the time. Up in Prompto and Ignis' apartment, he did the same, except first he was greeted by a hungry and desperate little girl. He fed her, cuddled her, and then packed some things for Prompto while trying to be thoughtful, but not intrusive, before he brought out the harness and leash.

While he put on the harness, she wiggled but was also purring and not really fighting him. When the leash was on and the bag over his shoulder she trotted after him quite happily and purred loudly in his grasp when he picked her up to get in the elevator. In the truck, the biggest problem was getting her to not crawl into Gladio's lap while he was driving. As it was, Gladio had to reach over at every stop light and stroke her comically tiny head by comparison to his hand, and boy did she ham it up. It was adorable, and Noctis had zero doubts that he was making the right decision in bringing her back with him.

When they got back, he didn't walk Ms. Marbles up. He was pretty sure he was getting enough looks just carrying her in one arm. Like the one very public like of his wasn't cats.

When he opened the door to the room Ignis was being treated in, he found a doctor standing by his bed, and the doctor took one look at him and said. "You cannot have that in here, Highness."

And Noctis just wasn't in the mood for it. "What are you going to do? Call the police?" He hadn't yet closed the door, and he definitely heard the crownsguard on door duty give a cough that very poorly disguised his laugh.

To his credit, the doctor gave Noctis a look that said he wasn't in the mood for it either. "The patient could be allergic."

"It's our cat," came Prompto's very tired voice from his chair.

"Hmm?"

"We live in his apartment together. Me, Ignis, and Ms. Marbles." Noctis saw Prompto sit up straighter and turn his head so that he could look back at them. "At least I assume we're talking about Ms. Marbles." It was truly a testament to Ms. Marbles' happy cat disposition that she actually allowed Noctis to raise up her paw and give it a little wave at Prompto. He didn't smile, but he did give a small wave back.

Noctis internally sighed. It was Ignis' bed and Ignis' apartment. The list of things that he knew Ignis felt were _theirs_ but Prompto apparently did not was growing. At least, he thought as he all but dropped Ms. Marbles into Prompto's lap, he felt she belonged to them both.

"Gladio and I are going to try and get some work done."

"Okay."

"You should live the dream and take a nap in one of the other rooms. Like an all day nap." Because Prompto was starting to look worse than Ignis laying unconscious in bed.

"You ought to shower too," came Ventus' voice from the other side of the bed. "You'll feel better."

"I'll think about it," he said. It was something between a lie and a prettily said no. Noctis understood, though. Gladio had enough training to push through, and Noctis didn't have enough heart to be destroyed by it. Prompto had enough heart for at least ten heartless men and no training on how to handle it. Of course, he wasn't coping well.

"Ignis would want you to take care of yourself." Noctis said it because he couldn't bring himself to say that he wanted Prompto to take care of himself, too. It would matter more coming from Ignis anyway.

To that, Prompto said nothing at all, and Noctis made his way toward the door, leaving Gladio to have as much of a moment alone with Prompto as he could. On his way out, he ran into his father. "He hasn't woken up at all," Noctis told him softly.

"I hadn't thought he had, but it is good to visit," his father said with a nod befitting a king. Noctis would never look like that - regal and refined. It would take more time than he had left living to sculpt that out of him. "I also wanted to come see you for a moment before you returned back to work."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"In any conversation that is to come up, you are to talk about Ignis as though he died last night."

"What?" The words came out more as a surprise than a refusal or even confusion.

"The poison used on him has been both identified and located." His father bowed his head sadly. "It is . . . very clear that Ignis specifically was targeted. This was no accident. We want the would be murderer to be under the impression that they were successful. Maybe they'll be loose about it. Maybe they'll brag. Mostly, though, we do not want them coming back to complete the job."

Noctis took a deep breath and nodded his head. "Yeah. Okay. That makes a lot of sense. Just . . . "

"It's hard. Because you love him. I know."

He didn't though. Noctis didn't love anyone. He was incapable of feeling love. "Thanks."

"I'll tell Gladio on his way out too. I know it's hard, but try to have a good day, Noctis."

Having a good day was impossible when you went into your office knowing that your normal advisor, who barely tolerated you most days as it was, was replaced with _Lars_.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness." Lars greeted him with that bland politeness that Noctis was used to from him. "I am sorry to hear about your loss."

Ugh. Now this was going to start. Everyone was going to tell him how sorry they were that Ignis was dead, even though half of them literally hated his fucking guts. At least hearing it from Lars first was a good benchmark to set. "Yeah. Um. Thank you." Because what else were you supposed to say to that?! Especially when they weren't even actually dead!

"I've been doing what I can to keep up with the work that's been growing in your absence." Noctis wanted to tell him that he hadn't even been away for twenty-four hours, so it couldn't have been that much. He wanted to say that. He didn't want the lecture that went with it. "I've left the files for you to look through before the meeting at three."

He supposed he had to pull out his formal ass voice now. "Thank you, Lars. I'll get right on that."

"I'll be in my office should you need anything." He gave the type of bow that was clearly more habit than respect. Barely low enough to count as a bow if they were being honest, and then left his office, with the door clicking behind him. Noctis stuck his tongue out at the door the moment no one could see him do it. Ignis would have scolded him, especially since he'd been helping. Noctis didn't care. Helping was Lars' fucking job. It wasn't cause for him to like him.

After he was satisfied that the door knew every feeling that Noctis had toward Lars ever, Noctis sat down at his desk and started going through files. It wasn't the most boring part of his job. That usually fell to the meetings where old men talked in circles for hours. At least with files, Noctis could control how fast or slow the process was. Not that he was a fast reader. Not like . . . Ignis.

And that was all it took for Noctis to need to close the file he'd been reading and put his face in his hands for several long minutes. He wasn't dead. He wasn't, but he was still upstairs unconscious in a bed for who knew how long it'd be? Or if he'd even actually wake.

When he was together enough to actually pull himself back and start again, he had to wipe bits of moisture from the corners of his eyes. It was the worst feeling.

He read through several more files, vaguely aware with each one that it felt like he wasn't really making progress, just working through things that he'd already been behind on before. It wasn't until he got to a file that was about upcoming charity events for the Crystallo Nox season that Noctis knew he'd gotten into things that had been gone over since he'd been gone.

The deadline for picking something to do in early December was two days away. It had been something that he'd been penned down to discuss with Ignis today. In said discussion, Noctis was sure Ignis would have also been scolding him for not having his regular charitable cause selected. He was eighteen now, He was supposed to have one. They both knew it would be cats. The awareness of spaying and neutering to keep the populations down, the importance of finding good homes, and so on. They knew that. The problem was finding a local shelter to rally behind. There were just so many. Too many good choices.

Maybe he could do a rotation. After New Year's.

Cats wouldn't be suitable for his Crystallo Nox event, though. A bigger, grander gesture was expected. Noctis had been idly thinking about maybe something at the hospitals with seniors or children. The season was meant to be about hope. He wanted to do something that would give a bit of it to the people. What he didn't want to do was . . . what Lars had apparently picked for him.

Noctis was up out of his chair in an instant, folder tucked under one arm as he marched right down to Lars' office. "Lars, what is this?" With all the gentleness he could muster, he sat the file atop whatever else he was working on.

Lars took one glance and then looked up at Noctis with a note of confusion. "That's your Crystallo Nox charitable event. Is there something the matter with it?"

"Something," Noctis muttered to himself as he took the file back and turned to the proper page. "An evening spent in the Insomnia Bright Museum to honor its newest exhibit. A short news segment shown as a short tour of the showroom and its curators, which will draw steady attendance in the coming weeks, as well as a sizable donation to further their discoveries." Noctis closed the folder with such a delicate hand that he himself would call it showy. "No."

Lars took in a breath so deep that Noctis could hear it. "I do not understand what you find offensive about it. It's an exhibit--"

"I know," Noctis cut him off gently. "I know that it's an exhibit that features Galahdian culture through the artifacts and relics recovered from Niflheim last year." He hadn't learned about it through Gladio, even though Gladio's own regular charitable cause was to hold events for the restoration of Galahd, to help improve the seemingly ever deteriorating Galahd quarter, and to raise awareness about their culture in general. No. Of course not. Gladio didn't talk to _Noctis_ about things that might upset him. He never had. He'd heard about it from Iris, who had come to him with her phone in hand, tears in her big eyes. She'd asked him if there was anything he could do between small sobs.

Unfortunately, there wasn't, but he couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- outright support it.

Lars' face told Noctis that he was still flummoxed. "It's about foreign culture. I genuinely thought you would enjoy that."

Noctis took in a deep breath. Be civil. Be civil. Let's not even go into how Galahd was a Lucian state. "Perhaps I am not the best person to explain it, but the artifacts in that exhibit are things that Niflheim stole from Galahd in the attack, oh, I don't know how many years ago it was. I was three, I think? Stolen things should be returned to the people they were stolen from, not hung on display for profit by people who don't know how precious they are." Noctis didn't really know a great deal about Galahdian culture. All he knew he knew through Gladio and Iris. Maybe it was time to learn more. "I will not support that."

"I see."

He didn't, not really. Noctis could see it in his eyes. He didn't understand. Lars would never understand. Noctis would just have to accept that.

"I will take care of this myself. Don't worry yourself over it any further."

And really, that was the way the whole day went. He hadn't even worked the whole day, but by the time Noctis dragged himself back up to the room Ignis was being treated in, he felt drained and wanted to never move again. "Where are Prompto and Gladio?" He asked when he found the room empty except for him, Ignis in bed, and Ventus with Ms. Marbles on his lap. "I thought Gladio would get back before I did."

"He did," Ventus began to explain in his soft voice, "but when he returned, he found that Prompto hadn't moved from his spot, so he's dragged him off to shower, eat, and then I think they're going to bed." Ventus paused. "And by drag, I mean he truly just threw him over his shoulder and walked out."

"Ah." It was a good thing, Noctis knew. Prompto needed something to jolt him out of his lethargy, and since he hadn't been allowed to throw himself into training, being hauled off by his other boyfriend was probably the next best thing. Noctis sent him a text anyway,as he settled down in his chair. He got a reply almost instantly that just said _"We're bringing you something back."_ followed a couple moments later by _"Gladio says hi."_

Noctis snorted and gave a quick "Hi" back before he settled in to play his dailies on his phone. The next time he looked up was when the door opened about an hour later. The small takeaway box they handed him was clearly different than the ones they sat down with, and Noctis felt a ball of guilt take up residence in his stomach.

"You guys didn't have to go to a completely different place to get me something to eat." He could have just eaten whatever the kitchens brought up for him like he had yesterday.

"You can barely handle Iggy's green curry," Gladio told him bluntly. "You couldn't handle anything from the place we went to."

He wanted to tell them that they shouldn't have gotten him anything at all then. That they shouldn't feel obligated like that. He didn't do it. He was seen as enough of a childish brat as it was. He ate the chicken parm thing they got him, but it tasted even blander than it probably actually was.

After they finished eating, Prompto and Gladio only stayed for a little bit before Gladio was ushering Prompto up to his feet. Prompto, for his part, looked exhausted. He looked like a flower wilting where he stood. Gladio was right to be dragging him off to bed. It didn't stop him from feeling alone and vaguely abandoned when the door closed behind them.

"Why don't you go to bed too, Noct?" Ventus' voice was quiet and comforting, and it washed over Noctis like it was water and his skin was oil. It didn't stick. "I'm sure you're tired."

"I'll just stay here." He shrugged. "You know me. I can sleep well anywhere."

He did just that. He curled up in the chair and fell asleep easily. He was drawn out of sleep briefly by the sound of a door opening, and he lifted his head up just long enough to see Tellus draping his jacket over the back of a chair as he settled in himself.

Noctis couldn't specifically identify the next thing that woke him up, but what he saw when he opened his eyes certainly made him jolt out of his chair. Tellus was on the phone. Ventus was leaning over the bed grasping at Ignis' hand. At first Noctis thought the worst, but then his eyes met Ignis' own open eyes. "Specs." It was a miracle that Noctis didn't trip over his own feet getting to the side of Ignis' bed. Relief washed over him in the worst way, and he could not stop his eyes from filling with tears that overflowed down his cheeks.

"Noct." Ignis' voice slurred a bit, and he sounded like Noctis usually felt in the mornings when someone woke him up before his body wanted to wake. "What's wrong?" His voice sounded too soft, too gentle, to be his Ignis. "Why are you crying?" A hand that was trembling and weak touched his cheek out of the blue, and when he cleared his eyes well enough to see, he saw Ignis looking up at him with great concern. "Please don't cry." He paused for a second. "Is it the others?" His voice was still too soft, but it heightened with worry. "Are they all right?"

Didn't he remember? Noctis glanced at Ventus, who was shaking his head. No, then. He didn't remember, or at least not yet. "They're fine. Prompto and Gladio. Fine. Everyone else is fine."

"Oh." Something released in Ignis' shoulders. He sagged further back into his pillows. "That's good." A quick breath. "Then please don't cry. Please?" His hand fell away from Noctis' face, and Noctis felt the chill that replaced its presence. "It hurts my heart to see you like this."

"The doctor is on his way," Tellus announced quietly, moving into Noctis' space to reach for Ignis' free hand himself. Noctis did not hesitate to move at all.

Ignis slipped back into unconsciousness before the doctor arrived.

"This is good, though," the doctor said, despite the feeling in Noctis' gut. "He's woken up once now, and that means he's far more likely to do it again. Perhaps soon, even."

Soon ended up being the next afternoon. Noctis wasn't there for it, but he got a call while he was sorting through more files. It was his father. _"Ignis has woken up. The doctor says it's likely for good this time. Don't rush up here. I know you want to."_ The truth was that Noctis had already been halfway up to his feet when his father said that, and he had to gently lower himself back down. _"I'm going to send Prompto down to you in an hour or so. Go have a late lunch somewhere nearby, then come back."_

"Okay." He didn't like it, but he understood the logic. They were still pretending Ignis was dead, after all.

Another hour of files later, and there was a soft knock at his door. The person behind it didn't wait for his permission, but opened the door instantly. "I _Noct_ for permission," Prompto said when Noctis gave him a look. Noctis snorted. His pun was so obvious that he heard it spelled the way he intended.

"And you did that just so you could use that."

"Maybe." A pause. "The king also said to just drag you away from whatever, and he kinda outranks you so . . . "

Noctis snorted. "Kinda."

"Yeah," Prompto said with a quick shrug of his shoulders. "Kinda."

They ended up going down to the same little place they'd gone to last time, where Prompto insisted on paying even though he still hadn't gotten his first paycheck yet. "You promised." He had. Though Noctis had not thought it would be so soon. "I can afford it. I'll be getting paid next week anyway."

"That seems so far away."

"Yet so close." Prompto took in a deep breath as they sat down to wait for their food. "Look--"

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'I'm sorry', I'm going to throw my milkshake in your face when it comes."

"But I've been ignoring you!"

"You have not. Depressed, yeah, but so was I. You answered all my texts, and you guys brought me dinner yesterday." Even though they shouldn't have. They shouldn't have gone out of their way like that. He would have been fine. "Have you seen him yet?" Prompto shook his head. "They kicked you out again, didn't they?"

"Yes!" Prompto exclaimed. "And they told me to not come back until after this."

"Then I guess we'd better hurry up and eat so we can get back."

Noctis wouldn't really say that they rushed, but they didn't waste any time eating, either. Soon enough, they were on their way back to the Citadel, and by the time they were going up in the elevator, Prompto was nothing but nervous energy. "I'm surprised," he said at some point, probably to fill the silence, "that they even let you go out like that."

"Pretty sure they think it's someone in the Citadel," Noctis told him softly, "and besides, there were, like, three glaives and four crownsguard with us."

"Were there?!" Noctis nodded. "I couldn't even tell."

"You'll start noticing pretty soon," Noctis told him as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, "And then you'll start to train yourself to not focus on it."

"Great. Something to look forward to."

"It's not really that bad . . . unless you get one of the ones who takes their job too seriously and follows too closely." When Noctis had been younger, he'd really hated it. Now, maybe because he was a little older, or perhaps just because he'd gotten used to it, he didn't mind, so long as they weren't trigger happy about pulling him aside any time someone coughed. At least in high school, he'd been free of them during school hours, and after, as long as Ignis or Gladio came for him. Now he didn't think he'd ever be without anytime he went outside the Citadel or his apartment building.

Noctis opened the door to the care room, and his eyes first fell on Ventus, whose eyes were open just a crack. He must have been sleeping, Noctis thought, an idea that was confirmed a second later when his eyes fluttered closed again. He'd definitely just been assessing the threat level. Noctis was never sure if it was a comfort or an insult to not be considered a threat, but here, he'd take it.

His eyes moved to Ignis, who was sitting up in bed, head turned toward them. He looked terrible. Exhausted, in need of a shower, miserable, but he was there. He was awake. His lips were curled into the smallest of smiles. He would live. "Hello, Noct. Darling." His voice still sounded weak, but he was definitely more coherent than the night before. It was improvement.

"How are you feeling, Iggy?" They moved closer. Prompto slipped into his chair, and Noctis leaned against the wall the bed. He wanted to be close. Ignis wouldn't allow him too close, but he'd make do.

"Horrified," Ignis muttered unhappily.

Noctis couldn't help but snort a little bit. His voice might be sounding weak, but that was the same old Ignis. It was good to see that the poison hadn't done anything lasting to his mind. "Why?"

"I got blood all over His Majesty."

"Really?" Noctis shook his head. "Because I think that's the last thing my dad was worried about."

"It's _indecent_." Ignis gave off his trademark huff before he turned his attention to Prompto. "And just what do you think you're doing over there?"

"Uh. Sitting?"

"Why are you sitting over there when there is a spot so much closer?"

"This is the closest chair to the bed," Prompto said, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

"It is," Ignis conceded, "but there is plenty of room right here." One slightly shaking hand patted the bed space next to him one-two-three times. Noctis had to stop himself from snorting again.

"I'm . . . pretty sure that's not allowed. You're connected to machinery and stuff."

"Please," Ignis was huffing again, and Noctis could practically hear what he was going to say before he actually said it. He wanted out of that bed. "The nurses have told me I cannot have a shower, even though I desperately need one. They are not going to stop me from holding my darling." He pat-patted the spot next to him again, and this time Prompto didn't hesitate. Within seconds, Noctis was staring at a mass of limbs that was Prompto and Ignis under the covers with Prompto all but molded into his side. He might have been crying, Noctis wasn't sure.

"There, there," Ignis said, gently rubbing circles into Prompto's back. "I'm here." Even more softly he added, "And I'm not going anywhere."

Prompto's shoulders began to tremble. Yeah. He was crying. Noctis didn't know what to say, so he said nothing at all.

It was about ten more minutes before Gladio joined them. When he did, he took one look at that bed and circled around to the other side. He didn't lie down with them, but he sat there, his hands unable to keep still as he caressed and rubbed his eyes softer than chocobo down. It was the sort of scene that should be a painting, Noctis thought. Prompto and Ignis being shadowed by a larger, protective figure. It looked good. They looked good. They fit together.

They fit together in a way that Noctis knew he'd never fit with anyone. He was happy for them. He was also a little jealous.

Noctis didn't know how long they'd all been there, but it was long enough for Ventus to have woken from his nap and give a certain lap kitten attention before Noctis' phone began to ring. It was his default ringtone. Weird. "I'm gonna go take this."

"Hurry back," Ignis said lightly even as Noctis left the room.

"Hello?" Perhaps he should have looked at the caller ID, but he hadn't, and now he had to wait.

_"Yes, Highness."_ Oh. Okay. That was Tellus. Though Tellus didn't really call him very often, so maybe he should still be concerned. _"Would you be so kind as to meet with me in my office? I have something I need to talk to you about."_

"Yeah, sure. I'll be right there."

_"Excellent, I'll see you then."_ There was nothing else but a soft click as Tellus hung up. Noctis stuck his phone back in his pocket and then stuck his head into the room to say that something work related had come up and he'd be back later. He was dismissed as easily as he expected and then made his way to Tellus' office. It was a place he'd only been to a handful of times, but each time it surprised him how sparse it was. Most people did things to make the space more homey, but not Tellus Scientia. His office was as cold and clinical as an examination room. It was off-putting and made Noctis want to spend as little time in it as possible, which he supposed was the whole point.

After he closed the door behind him, he slipped into the chair and waited for Tellus to speak. It didn't take long. "I suppose there's no point in tiptoeing around the subject. I know who poisoned Ignis."

"Yeah?!" Noctis caught himself speaking too loudly at the last moment, and instead forced himself to literally sit on the edge of his seat, a whirlpool of things swirling inside him. "Who?"

"It was Lars Perfidia."

Inside of him, everything went blank. It was like everything around him went bright and white, and for a few moments Noctis had no idea what was going on . . . until Tellus' voice rang in his ears. "Highness. Prince Noctis. Calm down."

Noctis breathed. His shoulders slumped a bit, something that had been there a moment ago now gone. He wasn't sure what it was. "Are. Are you sure?"

"I'm positive."

For Noctis, Tellus saying he was positive was more than enough. "Then what are we doing here? Why aren't we out there taking Lars in?"

For his grand gesture of emotion, Tellus allowed himself one soft sigh. "I cannot prove it."

That was confusing. Tellus was sure that it was Lars, but he could not prove it. "Then how can you be positive?"

What followed was an explanation of what Tellus had been doing for the last three days that was as clinical as the office they sat in. Every tiny, little bit of what Tellus told him made absolute perfect sense, but the bit that would seal the deal for Noctis came at the end. "When it was tested, we found that the poison was in the coffee filters he uses for his personal coffee maker."

"Okay, definitely a highly personal hit then."

"Precisely. When I ran the inquiries I had a pot of coffee in that machine - not poisoned, of course." Judging by the look on his face, subtle though it was, Tellus probably would have liked for the coffee to be poisoned. "The only person who declined the coffee was Lars."

"Okay," Noctis said, trying to steady himself with a breath. "Okay, okay, okay, but I would have declined."

"Everyone knows about your sweet tooth, Highness. Of course, you would have declined. The rest of us are office workers who drink coffee by the gallon. Declining a cup of Ignis' brew in particular is very suspicious." Tellus knit his fingers together and leaned forward on them. "Unfortunately, no matter how positive I am about this, none of it would hold up in court. Lars has been very thorough indeed."

"Okay, but why am I here, then? What can I do about it?"

"I am hoping that you'll agree to try and get a confession out of him."

Noctis snorted. "How? It's not like we're close." In fact, they were the opposite of close. Noctis might as well be on Galahd and Lars in Niflheim for how close they were.

"No," Tellus conceded, as though there were any arguing about that at all, "but he would like to be. Not personally - I don't think that - but professionally. I think he has always resented that Ignis got the role as your advisor and not him. Invite him closer, see if you can get him to open up." Noctis was trying to even go down the rabbit hole of how he would do such a thing when Tellus continued. "Don't do it alone, of course. Take Gladiolus with you. Don't risk yourself for it. After all, perhaps Ignis is only the start. Perhaps he would seek you out next. But with Ignis awake, it is only a matter of time before Lars realizes that he's not dead. Perhaps he will try again with a more violent and immediate solution."

"Right. Right. Okay."

"And Noctis?"

"Yes?"

"Get a recording. It likely won't hold up otherwise."

There were two things that Noctis was very aware of as he left Tellus' office. One was that he was being used. Tellus was using him. (He was okay with that, or maybe he just didn't really care.) The other was that he was not in any way going to involve Gladio. He'd do this himself.

He didn't manage it that day, but he started. Starting meant going back to his apartment for the night. It meant sitting in a car with Lars acting as though Ignis was dead. It meant not screaming at Lars right then and there about trying to murder his first friend. It took a great deal of restraint, and by the time they were pulling up to the building, Noctis felt drained. "You don't need dinner this evening, do you?"

"No," Noctis said honestly. "I had dinner with father." It hadn't been in the way that Lars was probably thinking, but he had.

"I'll see you in the morning, then."

"All right. I'll see you then." And he did, all too early in the morning, eyes opening blearily to see Lars' face hovering above him. He turned his own face back into the pillows. Not what he wanted to see first thing.

"Highness, I think you're in need of a new alarm."

"Nope," Noctis grumbled against the fabric. "This is the only one that works." He was aware of it, now that Lars had mentioned it, blaring out from his phone just a few feet away. He blindly reached for it so that he could turn it off.

"It's been going off for ten minutes." Yeah? Was that how long it took? Noctis had never really bothered to calculate it out before.

"And in another five I would have dragged myself out for a shower."

Noctis was faced with a rather long pause from Lars. "Have you ever thought about having sleep studies done? Such deep sleep could be a sign of something malignant."

It wasn't. It was the one thing that had been leftover from the healing he'd gotten in Tenebrae. That was when it had started, and all things considered, being an annoying cat that fell into a deep sleep whenever he was left alone and unoccupied for more than ten minutes was more than a fair trade for being able to walk without pain and feel his legs. "I'll think about it," he said, even though he wouldn't. He didn't want a fight. Not yet.

"Please get ready and meet me in your kitchen. I'll have something prepared."

Noctis lifted his head just in time to watch Lars leaving through the door. "The fuck?" he whispered to himself. Lars did not normally cook. He didn't normally clean. He didn't normally even do anything more than show up and stand in his living room until he was ready to go. Noctis would have never stopped him from sitting, but even that had always seemed to be too much for Lars. Lars made it clear every time he had to take Ignis' place that he was not Ignis. He would not do the extra bits that Ignis did out of a passion for his occupation that could not be quelled.

Was Lars . . . truly trying to do what Ignis did? To fill that role in its entirety?

He wanted to get back on the train out of bizzaro world, please. He didn't like it here.

He made triple sure that the door was locked before he took his shower. Nothing bad happened. When he went out to the kitchen, though, something terrible happened, and that was in the plate that Lars slid across to him. It was something that Noctis was pretty sure Ignis would call a frittata, but was by far more vegetable than egg and accompanied by a single piece of toast and a single slice of bacon. Who the fuck cooked just one piece of bacon?

Lars, apparently.

They ate in silence, or, rather, Noctis ate in silence and Lars drank coffee. Distinctly unpoisoned coffee. Gods, Noctis hoped he wasn't eating poisoned food right now. Perhaps it wouldn't matter all that much, for how much of it he actually ate. "Highness," Lars said when he was finished, in the one tone of voice that he and Ignis shared. The tone of disapproval. "You need to eat more than this."

"Look. I ate all the tomatoes and one piece of broccoli. Honestly, that's more than I really wanted to. You're not getting more than that."

Lars heaved a sigh of great disappointment, but let it go. They went to work with the vegetables still uneaten.

When he visited, he was told by an Ignis who had finally been allowed to shower with Prompto's supervision that he would be released to go home later that evening. He was still expected to be on bed rest for quite some time, and he was to be monitored, but he'd reached the point where the doctor thought he'd do better in his own bed. That was good. It was also bad. Once he was out of this room, it was really only a matter of time before everyone knew he was still alive.

He had to get Lars to confess before that.

He sulked and dug himself into a hole of thought about how to do it. In the end, it would be that sulking that brought it up in the first place. "You've been brooding all day," Lars said to him as he slid a plate of something that included mushrooms Noctis very much didn't want in front of him. "What's going on?"

"I just." He took a breath, trying to think of something that wasn't suspicious but also made sense. His lips filled in the gaps almost on their own. "I just miss him."

"I know that my cooking is not up to his level, but--"

"No, Lars. I miss _him_. As a person." It wasn't a lie. He did miss Ignis. He missed all of them, really, when they weren't around, but Ignis had been more or less a constant in his life. Even when they'd been fighting and distant and Ignis had disliked him more openly, he was there. He'd spent days thinking he'd die, and now he was spending his time trying to get rid of the man who would have seen it through. Might still see it through. It was distressing.

Might as well push it all the way home. "I just don't get it. Who would want him dead? Who would do that? Why?"

"Perhaps," Lars began in that careful and restrained way that advisors liked to when they were about to say something they knew you wouldn't like, "it was someone who was concerned about Lucis' future."

Noctis lifted his head out of his arms and looked up at Lars. That made exactly zero sense to him at all. "Why would anyone be concerned?"

The look that spread across Lars' face was one of plain and true frustration, a look he'd never actually seen on his face before. And then Lars' shell simply seemed to break. "House Scientia has served the crown for ages. They've always been faithful, humble, and quiet voices. Until recently. It was scandal enough when the Scientia heir decided to take a man, a foreign man no less, as his partner. Scandal enough when the Lady Scientia married her own foreigner husband and then ran off to abandon her duties to the very man they'd already _removed_ from his social standing for his disgrace. And then they didn't have the good sense to die before they had a child and sent it off to the paradise they'd abandoned. Ignis Scientia should have never even been here."

Maybe he couldn't do this. Maybe he should just stop it now and go, oh, Noctis didn't know, knock on any one of the doors around them. He knew they were practically all crownsguard. Any of them would willingly hold him while he got someone more qualified in here. "Hey. Uh."

Lars was definitely not listening to him anymore.

"And then what happens? The Scientia heir is raised by his disgraced uncle and his lover, who truly ought to have been exiled but were kept around like lapdogs! Said heir is given to the prince as his future advisor instead of someone who's social standing had never been in question. Everyone just thinks it will be fine, and then what happens? Ignis, raised by homosexual men, turns out to be a homosexual himself! What a shocker! Who could have predicted that?!"

"I really think you need to stop." The shock that had been plaguing his nerves was fading into something else entirely. It was fading into rage. This hadn't really been what he'd expected at all.

"No! You need to listen, Highness! You need to hear it. Everyone coddles you. No one will put their foot down. I will. I'm not afraid of you. I have no sympathy for what happened when you were ten. You will hear the truth. It is, after all, partially your own fault."

"Is it?" Oh yes, he could feel the anger bubbling under his skin. How could he not be angry?

"You just had to go to a public school, and you just had to befriend a disgraceful foreigner yourself. You couldn't have chosen someone noble and pure."

"Prompto," Noctis said, breathing in deep to keep himself steady, "is not a foreigner. He's a Crown Citizen. He's been here since he was a baby. He's Lucian." He would destroy anyone who thought otherwise. He would not let those nagging voices get into Prompto's head. No. Never.

"He's anything but Lucian. There's nothing about him that's Lucian. Not the hair on his head and not the blood in his veins. He's a Niff with delusions of grandeur that everyone keeps indulging. Not only did you allow him close, but then Ignis just decided to invite him into his bed."

Memories. Painful, sad memories played in his head. Flowers and petals across his floor. His oldest friend pale from surgery. The look on Prompto's face when Ignis didn't even recognize him. Watching blossoms rain on onto the floor of the school hallway. The pain of not being able to do anything to help at all as two of the only people who had ever cared about him suffer in silence. "You don't know _anything_ about that." The tears pricked at his eyes, it sated the anger, just a bit. Not enough, but a bit.

"I know enough," Lars scoffed at him, and Noctis had had enough.

"I'm going to go." He tried to stand. Lars' hand pushed him back down into his chair. Hard.

"You're not going anywhere. You will understand. And you will obey from now on." The hand on his shoulder left, and then brushed it off, lightly, as though he himself hadn't just pushed Noctis back down. He was dealing with a madman. "I put up with all of that. Do you understand how difficult that was? To stand in the shadow of a lesser man? Knowing he half raised the future of this country? Knowing he's dragging him down the wrong path? I have watched for years as you, an ideal Lucian in blood and looks, were pulled down the path that would lead to your ruin. And I allowed that. Until Ignis went too far."

Too far. To Noctis' ears it seemed like Ignis being born was too far for Lars. "What did he do?"

"He and that little slut you call a friend seduced an Amicitia."

Seduced, he said, like Noctis had not seen the flowers on the training mat. As though he had not seen the terror in Gladio's eyes when he'd realized what it meant. Seduced, he said, like he and Prompto hadn't walked into this very apartment to see Ignis waiting, dagger in hand. "You don't know anything about that, either."

"I know enough! And I know that's when I knew Ignis Scientia was truly beyond help. I'm sure that he's looking on us from his enlightened After and grateful that I took him out when I did. I'm sure he's grateful for the slow and relatively painless poison I chose for him, knowing that I could have instead chose one of the fast and vicious things more readily available." Fingers grazed his hair, and Noctis wanted to scream. "Don't worry. When Argentum goes, he won't feel a thing." Lars sighed, almost regretfully. "It's just a shame that you cannot replace your shield. If only the only younger child hadn't been a girl."

Something undeniable crackled under Noctis' skin. Something boiled. Something wanted escape. "What did you just say about Prompto?"

"Ah," Noctis looked right up into Lars' face. He was smiling. He was happy. Serene. Noctis could not fathom it. "Well he cannot live without Ignis, can he? It was true love and all that. He'll stumble on for a couple of weeks, and then the grief will be too much. What's what everyone will say. Separating you from Gladio will be a bit more difficult, but we'll manage. And then we'll get right to work righting your wrong-minded thinking."

Noctis thought he'd had enough before, but now? Now he'd really had enough. Too much, even. He couldn't take any more. He was up from his seat before Lars could push him back down again, his skin crawling and itching as he seemed to boil over. His fingers curled into Lars' jacket. He meant to pull him closer, meant to have him so close that they could look at nothing but each other's eyes. He meant to do that, but Lars reacted as though he were made of nothing more sturdy than notebook paper. He went down, and Noctis went with him.

"It's time for you to listen to _me_," Noctis seethed. "None of that is ever going to happen." Lars began to thrash against his hold, but the plain truth was that Noctis was physically stronger. He held onto him. The crackling beneath his skin was beginning to calm. It lessened with every word he spoke. "Why? Because you failed. Ignis is still alive. He's alive, and I will never, _ever_ let you lay another finger on any of _mine_ again!"

He let go. The seething crackling under his skin was gone. In fact all his anger was gone, and Noctis just felt tired. He let go, and then. Lars didn't move. He didn't speak. After a second, Noctis realized that Lars wasn't breathing. "Shit." What had he done? What had he done?! Why wasn't he breathing?! He hadn't strangled him! His hands hadn't even been at his neck!

The crackling.

The horrid realization hit him like a train. He'd thought it had been anger and bubbling rage in his blood, and perhaps it had. It had also been magic. But what kind?! "What did I do?!" He slapped at Lars' cheek thoughtlessly, as though it might wake him up. That was when the scent hit his nose. At first, the scent of ozone that came with thunderstorms, followed by the scent of thoroughly cooked bacon. No. Not bacon. The scent of cooked human flesh.

Noctis recoiled, a scream tearing its way out of his throat, followed by a rolling of his stomach. He vomited. The sound was too loud in his ears. The bile too sharp in his throat.

The front door opened with a crack, and then he was surrounded by people. Hands tried to pull at him, trying to help him up, to get his attention. He pulled back. "Don't touch me!" he screamed with all that was left of his voice. "Don't touch me!"

Or maybe he'd kill them too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All editing credit for this image goes to **Carmei14**, who lovingly made this for me when I was discussing things about this story...and not telling a lot of other things that happened just this chapter.


End file.
